What it takes to Love
by Simsim1705
Summary: He slipped down to the exposed chest of her lowcut nightgown, slurping wildly at her skin. Horrified, she stared incredulously at him.“You wouldn’t….” she breathed.“Oh, but I would,” he whispered lowly in her ear, laughing cruelly.
1. The Dashing Horses

**Summary: **

From a mere insect to an imperial monarch, each soul is marked, with a destiny waiting to be served. Believing it to be her fate, the ambitious young daughter of a wealthy Babylonian architect journeys to Egypt; determined to help the Pharaoh defend his kingdom against an ancient evil. However, WHOM she encounters is much more than what she bargained for…much more….

He was unfathomable. She had traveled the world, been tutored by the best; and had never encountered a thing like him. When she fell, he laughed. When she cried, he jeered. Yet it was he who would stand when she needed someone most…? He who would save her when her life was threatened?

**Pairing:**

Yami Malik x OC

BTW! YAMI MALIK is in this as a REGULAR person living in ancient times! NOT AS A YAMI OF SOMEONE! Don't get confused! It's the one with awesome spiked hair standing up, not the one w/ hair down! Thank You!

* * *

Leaning against a marble column, a young girl stood looking out at the glistening calm of the Euphrates River. Coursing swiftly through its snaking orbit, its shimmering scales of torrents pulsed steadily past. The long serpent arched its neck out to the horizon, winding through the countryside, bearing the sun's lustrous emblem upon its back.

Numerous reed boats dotted the river, rising and falling rhythmically with the monotony of the breath of the serpent. Tanned fishermen, both young and old, cast their silver lines out, eagerly awaiting the slightest tug or jerk that would betray the bearings of the prey. Every so often, a shout would pierce the boisterous murmurs of gossip, indicating the discovery of a new school of fish.

Baskets brimming with fish lined the piers, with young sons and apprentices posted as their sentinels. Tiring beneath the sun's blazing gaze, they crouched among tousled, matted knots of ropes and nets; organizing bait and fishhooks, or if they could get away with it, a few moments of cramped dozing.

Closing her eyes, she stood still, savoring the raw streaks with which the cool wind whipped at her olive cheeks.

_How invigorating…_

Every afternoon, following her lessons, she managed to "get lost" on the way back home, and end up in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Past the courtyards and balconies of quarreling scholars and boasting nobles, she'd find an isolated veranda to pass the time. And what a way of passing the time it was—merely gazing out at the unbelievably stunning landscape was enough to keep captivated for hours. Dazzling, exotic flora flourished in each flowerbed. Suspended form stories above, twisting, tangled plants crept along corners and sides of the structure, creating intricate designs on the walls. Pouring through sloping channels, streams of water cascaded gracefully; irrigating the flowers and providing a splendorous spectacle as well. Songbirds twittered mirthfully from the branches of small trees and clouds treaded lethargically overhead. Careful attention and taste had been paid to every last detail of the Hanging Gardens; even the marble floors were tiled elaborately with certain stones, that when viewed at an angle, depicted various tales of Babylonian mythology. It was as if all seemed to eager to remain here, encircled by the beauty of nature's extravagance. If she felt up to it, she would sometimes even take her texts from her satchel and practice as her teacher had instructed.

Glancing down at her shadow, she scowled as she noticed curly frays of her hair jutting out in a horribly disarrayed manner. Her hands quickly ran across the top of her head, smoothing her hair, as she sighed; dissatisfied.

"Oh, there's no use fooling with it…It'll always be unmanageable anyways…." She muttered to herself.

"Much like its owner…" a confident voice stated sarcastically form behind her.

She leapt and whirled around. Her eyes widened in surprise upon discovery of the voice's identity. Quite an attractive young man, he was evidently tall and strong, with well-built yet slender physique. Clad in lavish silks; he stood in a flowing olive kilt, secured with a thick sash around the waist, and a thin leather vest atop a bare chest. On the back of his vest, embroidered with silver and embedded in gems, was the prominent winged two headed lion of his family's crest. Tucked into the side of his adorned sash, was a curved sword; its golden sheath lavishly encrusted with an iridescent array of precious stones. Aside from its dark, onyx tone, thick curly locks, slightly straighter and more orderly than hers, marked his relationship with her. Being Babylonian, they along with majority of their people, shared the same yet vaguely differing, incredible eyes. Large and almond shaped, they were sculpted as elongated ellipses, with long, curled lashes. Set within them, like jewels in an ornament, were brilliantly tinted jade pupils, with golden halos surrounding the iris.

A large smile shattered the astonished countenance she had donned as she threw her arms around him lovingly.

"Brother! I thought you were up North! When did you reach Babylon's gates? If only I had known, I—"

The tall, young man interrupted her smiling, his vivacious jade eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Forgotten so soon? Must be the old age…"

Her eyebrows knitted in thought as she recalled all the events of the past few days.

"Forgotten what? Your older by five years, Ninazu!" she said, proudly justifying her youth.

"Your going-away party."

Her throat constricted.

* * *

Dashing through town atop majestic Arabian stallions, they raced against the setting sun, determined to arrive before the ceremony's commence. Long green capes, fluttering in the wind, only added to their mystique on steeds of such magnificence. Halting the rowdy commotion of commerce and barter in the marketplace, many stopped to look at them and whisper as they galloped past. The thunderous pounding of their mounts' hooves quickly drowned the sound of the haggling merchants. Hands were lifted and directed toward the black crests burnt into the flank of the ivory horses and the jeweled leather saddles and bridles.

Gasps rose and receded with cries of, "But they never come into city!", "Must be a special occasion!", and the ever famous "Wonder who's dead?".

Kicking up clouds of dust, they arrived at the top of a lone hill, positioned at the farthest edge of the city. Dismounting their impressive horses, they dusted themselves and proceeded to walk to the stables.

Ninazu grinned sheepishly at his sister, "Welcome home, Sehjaah!"

Sehjaah laughed, "It is **_I _**who should be welcoming **_you_**."

She turned away to face the glorious horizon, luminous hues of the nacreous sunset uniquely adorning the city below. The large blazing orb descended slowly, creeping further and further below the reddening sky until it would sink completely behind hills of the surrounding desert.

_The last time I'll see Babylon…_

Her thoughts were pierced by an irritated cough.

"Well now, aren't you coming? The party's being thrown in your honor, you know. You haven't even tethered your horse!" Ninazu stated blandly, folding his arms across his chest.

She quickly turned to him and smiled faintly.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, hold your horses, HAHAHA get it? Cuz you know horses have to be tied, and my horse isn't, and the old saying, your hurrying, and yeah…." She trailed off meekly.

"I'll pretend it's the pre-party jitters", he muttered disgustedly, as he turned and headed toward the large manor behind them.

Tugging her horse's rope, she trudged slowly to the stables, kicking stray pebbles of the path.

* * *

Sehjaah lingered in her quarters hesitantly, brushing her curly russet hair, baffled. The unbothered ambiance of the manor; every and each last implement residing in its rightful abode, washed a torrent of reassurance her. Yet, she was entirely unprepared to handle such a situation. It had stayed the same, the exact same; a stark contrast to what she had been imagining on the ride here. She would have thought at least foyer to be bedecked differently, or a new set of chairs dominating the living rooms; but aside from a few drapes that had been dyed a richer tone of green, nothing had changed…or had it?

Either way, she would have to start snooping around; her parents would expect her to.

_Heh, just like old times, eh_?

Even as a child, she was adventurous, ambitious, and determined, she had always had an avid passion for solving mysteries. While the rest of her family were dining, even the servants, she would be out in the garden or wandering around the manor; determined to see what was taking place around her. She would attempt to bargain with her nanny, each plea soliciting the suspension of her inevitable curfew to just a minute further away, simply because she was sure something exciting would happen as soon as she was laid to bed that she didn't want to miss.

The succulent opulence in which she was nurtured, the sumptuous charms and trinkets with which her life was flamboyantly laced; all proved to be hollow assets, mere earthly possessions, that soon enough, will have worn away to pieces of dust…and nothing more. The hypocrisy of the aristocratic world was unbearable; which was why she and her brother longed to run away; just run away from it all...while thieir parents thought them ungrateful.

Sehjaah hadwanted to make something of herself; do something with her life; not simply amble down the standard road of life. Would her obituary reiterate the mounds of fortune that her family had accumulated over the years? Sehjaah didn't want her father's salary to be scripted on her tombstone; she wanted what she had done; something timeless, universal, and world changing. She had wanted to change the entire globe, discover the meaning of life, and somehow, years spent being educated and traveling, although they proved to satisfy her needs for exuberance, hadn't done that.

_Though of course, I knew all along that it never would…._

One recent afternoon, while completing her assignments in the Hanging Gardens, had she "helplessly had come to hear" of discourse between a priest and a merchant.

_Quite an odd couple, if I do recall_… She smirked.

Through their conversation, she had picked up on an interesting tidbit. The new Pharaoh of Egypt was terribly troubled. Apparently, some dark, ancient evil was threatening to strike his kingdom, and he claimed if successful, would eventually engulf the entire world, shrouding it in eternal night..

Sehjaah, being the girl she was, had seen it as an adventure, and of course, she would never turn down an adventure. After ages of taunting and hiding, oppurtunity had finally revealed itself; and she wouldn't miss the chance to seize it. She could venture, discover, solve, and save the world; all in one.

She hadtaken it upon herself to join his court and help him find a solution to vanquish his enemy. It was the perfect chance to do something worth while in her life; something courageous and daring teeming with immeasurable perils. She had studied arduously, she had been all over the world, she _had_made something of herself; and was journeying to Egypt at the dawn of tomorrow, to be tested for entry to his imperial court.

Clearly, this was all entirley against the doctrine of standard tradition, for a women to weild such power,display such confidence. It had taken praisefrom a countless amount of tutors, priests, and anyone else of well regarded status to convince her parents to travel the world; as well as their naturally, selfish, careless stupor. Nonetheless, she had managed to set out and see the world beyond the concentric gates of her father's manor.

Sehjaah leaned in toward her reflection in the mirror and smirked confidently.

_I'll make it! I'll see to it I will--just try and stop me! I **will** change the world…I **can** save the world...just you wait…._

* * *

OMG I COULDN'T RESIST PUTTING IN THIS TEASER OF CHAPTERS TO COME! HEHE! CHECK IT OUT:

**... Just as she turned to sprint down the hallway, a powerful hand**

**firmly clutched her wrist. She sharply inhaled and struggled to **

**turn around, but he roughly wrenched her toward him. Gasping**

**as she collided with a well-toned chest, she unsuccessfully tried **

**to push herself away, thrashing wildly in his grip. Merely tightening**

**his hold, he tilted his head down and murmured venomously **

**in her ear, "Having trouble sleeping?"...DUNDUNDUNNNNNNNN!**


	2. A Fatal Farewell

The real action, as in Yami Malik, doesn't start until the next chapter, when she will meet him, er, more or less...considering how social he is... ANYway so please bear with me; expositions, though necessary, are always boring. All the fun starts in chapter 3. so ciao -

* * *

The night passed by fleetingly, as a blur of tea and words. Sehjaah flitted from one cluster of guests to the next, as a butterfly fluttering nimbly from blossom to blossom. She carried a glass of tea wherever she went, preferred over wine, as to calm herself, but hadn't taken a sip of it. Though she had taken nearly half a decade of private tutoring for etiquette, she had had absolutely no idea how to act. She hadn't seen half of theses people in three years, as a consequence for touring the world. Fashioning an ambiguous notion of what conduct her parents would approve of, she strolled quickly through the foyer, greeting and exchanging a petty discourse inundated with forged flattery:

"How **_gorgeous _**you look!" "My, my am I an aunt **_already_**?" "Haven't seen **_you _**in ages!" "**_Did he really!_**!"

Each invitee was robed in voguish silks and adorned in glittering gems; displaying their finery at its _wealthiest_. Laughing about a certain display of witticism, Recalling past memoirs, "mingling" as her mother, Lady Anatu, had seen fit for a girl of her age.

Suddenly she heard a clanging sound and turned to the head of the luxurious room, where the sound had originated. Lord Anshar, her father, had tapped his silver goblet with a spoon.

_Oh my gosh; I think he's proposing a toast! Oh dear Goddess Inanna; not now! He's drunk!_

Lord Anshar wasn't slapping his knee and guffawing loudly as some of the more bacchanalian men were, but he was still clearly sloshed, nonetheless, as he teetered pendulously. Clutching his wine, Ninazu came to stand next to Sabirah. Under the faint candlelight of the chandeliers, he seemed almost celestial in appearance.

"Prepared for humiliation and emotional scarring?" he asked her slyly.

She let out a groan and turned to him; releasing all stored tensions of the night. "What's he going to toast for; good **_wine _**in **_Egypt_**? His daughter just returned from a three year long trip around the world, and he's drunk the next night?"

Ninazu turned to stare at her quizzically, cocking his head to the side, causing a raven tassel of hair to roll over his eyes. "This is _father_, Sehjaah; _Lord Anshar;_ did you _really _expect him to be teary-eyed? He's a filthy rich architect; it's not common ofaristocratic nature to be humane and thoughtful"

Sehjaah redirected her attention to the front of the room, narrowing her eyes at a swaying Lord Anshar, who was laughing hysterically, slurring any words of praise to the Gods he managed to get out.  
"Sophistication isn't established by wealth. Actually, it prooves just the contrary, I assume; themore gold one has, thecrasser he is.Belly dancers and drunken bastards? Frankly, I expected something a little deeper than this! It may as well have been a simple family supper, but as long asits sincere… "

"You _wanted _something a little deeper than this…" and with one final look Ninazu turned and left, disappearing into the crowd.

Sehjaah turned to watch him, glancing from right to left, earnestly hoping to find him. She rolled her eyes in irritation.

_Now where did **he **run off to….?_

Lady Anatu laughed elegantly as she tried to shove her husband back into the gathering.

* * *

Sehjaah dragged an emerald hair ornament rather forcefully out of her thick locks. Scowling, she trudged over to her balcony, glaring down at the gardens below. Silently in the sliver moonlight, Ninazu was dancing with blades. Twirling as elegantly as a danseuse, he leapt from stone to stone, swinging his swords deftly around him. A lethal pirouette here, a poised jab there, he dexterously wound around the flowers, dueling an imperceptible partner. Sehjaah tucked a wisp of curly auburn hair behind her ear.

_He makes it seem so simple…sword fighting...life…just like….a dance……_

* * *

"For someone who's about to join an imperial court, you don't seem too flattered", Ninazu stated satirically, smirking devilishly. He stood at the edge of her delicately crafted iron four-poster. He brushed aside her white canopy, waiting for her to rise.

Sehjaah bleary eyes flickered open.

"Morning already?", she yawned.

She was honestly in no rush to get to the Pharaoh's kingdom. All the enthusiasm she had been satiated with yesterday had mounted to nerve-wracking anxiety. She was a nervous wreck, and had even no assurance of her acceptance into the court. However, the chance of once again submitting to disappointment upon not unearthing what she had been hunting for loomed over her ominously. Of course, she was as bent as ever on helping the pharaoh, believing it would somehow help her find her place in the world, and because he direly needed assistance which he couldn't seem to find. And yes, she would never say no to an adventure, especially when it involved saving the world, but the possibility of disillusionment stood before her as sternly as ever.

_I'm still skeptical about that whole "WORLD" thing , I mean how can one enemy of Egypt threaten the entire world? What did the world ever do to him huh? Besides, if Egypt can't stop him, Babylon sure will!_

She wasn't journeying all the way to Egypt solely for herself. The "meaning of life" if there even was such a thing, which she highly doubted, would merely be a plus, along with the adventure and saving the world, her lifelong dream. Now that opportunity had presented its evanescent self, she certainly wasn't going to turn the other way. With all her proficiency and discernment, she might be able to offer some simple element that would manage to salvage his people, who in no way were entitled to the suffering the pharaoh warned they would receive. Sabirah smiled weakly to herself.

_I get to go to the gorgeous palace of Egypt, and spend who knows how long doing what I love best: solving mysteries and embarking on an adventure. Its not every day the world needs saving, so what's there to be so anxious about….? _

"Ninazu?"

"Yes?"

"Why am I doing this?"

He turned to her incredulous in his exasperation.

"Are you serious? After years of private instruction, traveling far and wide, and even more tutoring; you see yourself fit to be accepted into the Pharaoh's regal court, then the dawn upon which you are to embark on your journey, you **_question your purpose_**? Have you learned _nothing _those three years traveling? You can't very well turn around now and apologize to the Pharaoh, 'Oh, I'm sorry your Highness, I don't _feel _like it today! Maybe the day after the next? I-'"

"My voice isn't that shrill!" Sehjaah snapped.

"YOU COMPLETLEYIGNORED MY POINT--" Ninazu shouted sternly before being cut short by Sehjaah.

"Your not my mother." she said simply.

"Looks like I very well have to be; seeing as you still can't take care of yourself!" he said irritably.

Smirking, Sehjaah threw her pillow at him. He grabbed it and threw it back at her so forcefully she flew into the wall.

* * *

"May your excursion be rewarding!" Lady Anatu called happily to her daughter, waving from the wide porch.

"Sehjaah," Lord ANshar began, assuming anonly too familiar ait of authority, "keep yourself out of harm's way! Accompanied with three sentinels in your voyages; you still managed to get lost andwreak havoc upon the indigenes! Let's hope your brother won't let us down!"

"Tch, their incompetence is no fault of mine!" Sehjaah scoffed under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I love you!"

"Oh, yes Sehjaah! Do stay with the group!" Ninazu cried mockingly in a feigned soprano voice, as he skidded to a stop on one of his father's agile Arabians. He glanced down at the horse strangely, "Hmmm, I still prefer mine to this specimen…"

Sehjaah turned to him. "Aren't you riding Layilah to Egypt with me?" Layilah was Ninazu's stunning Arabian mare. Well suited to her name, Layilah ("night" in Arabian) had a glistening stark ebony coat and hooves as silent as thy were swift.

"No." Ninazu replied simply. "But you'll be taking your Sultan with you to Egypt, unless you want him left at Father's mercy, which would actually be better for the miserable beast…"

Sehjaah inhaled sharply; affronted. "Sultan is a suberbstallion; the finest of his pedigree! And he's as handsome and strongas he is quick!"

"Which isn't saying much.." replied Ninazu rigidly.

Sehjaah threw her head up and screeched "SULTAN!" to the sky. Galloping nimbly from the stables, a large, white blur darted around the family and stopped behind Sabirah. Festooned with green, silver, and gold tassels and trimmings, he strode to Sehjaah surrounded by a deific aura. Posed vigorously, the enormous stallion nickered lightly in response to his name. Shimmering in the faint dawn glow, his chaste ivory hide glistened, like dew, as his snowy mane fluttered in the wispy gust. Sehjaah leapt upon Sultan and strutted flamboyantly.

"Why is he already saddled?"

"Wanted a dramatic exit."

Ninazu raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you did…"

And with that, they turned their steeds and charged powerfully down the hill.

* * *

An lean man crossed the courtyard quickly, white robes fluttering behind him. With eyes narrowed to slits and shriveled skin hanging tightly about him, came the betrayal of a lengthy existence. He liffted hhis fingers to his brow, gently strokingthe metallic golden eye that lay in the crook of his socket. Suddenly, he came to a stop.

Studying the intricately adorned walls before him was a young girl. She was so engrossed by the sophisticated detail of the wall that she hadn't heeded him a speck of attention. Pinned high above her head with gemmed decorations, a curly roan ponytail tumbled to her shoulders. Wrapped in a grassy robe, whose elegance shined in its simplicity, she stood glittering with silver jewelry.

_From where did she so abruptly appear? A witch? She appears to be of elevated status; but if so, why are we unacquainted? _

Abruptly, a disturbing proposition surfaced from the veiled mists of obscurity.

_Perchance she's one of.. …of……**Bakura'**s…… _

His countenance contorted with scorn at the mere thought of the infamous rascal's title.

Suddenly, his throat began to throb, pain coursing through his wearied joints. He raised a fist to his throat before heaving a succession of hoarse rasps. She leapt away from the wall, petrified, and jerked her head to face him. Now, it was Priest Akunadin who stumbled backwards and gasped. She had fascinating eyes; as large, extended ovals, they were wreathed with dark, curled lashes. Incised within them, like a pearl in an oyster, were incredible turquoise orbs with golden halos framing the iris.

_The Babylonian! It must be! Eyes being their signature indeed…such a mystiying tinge..._

"Like tufts of feathers sprouting from the tail of a peacock…" he murmured to himself.

"Er…ah…Ninazu!" she called nervously in her own language, turning slightly behind her. "NINAZU!"

…_His name… _PriestAkundain calculated. _How could she have possibly wished to be admitted into the royal court if she is unable to speak Egyptian?_

Stepping form behind the shadows of a column, a young man dressed rather sumptuously treaded calmly over to her; replying sarcastically in Babylonian.

"I, er, wished to be tested for admittance into the court…." she uttered shyly in slightly accented Egyptian.

_So she speaks….That's somewhat of a relief…_

"I'm quite aware of that. Now you'll have to be presented to his majesty's court in a few moments, so I presume you would fancy some time to freshen up, seeing as you have traveled all the way from Babylon."

"Ahhh yes, I'd like that…very much", she replied hesitantly.

_Do I look that atrocious?_

"Now where shall we place you? Oh yes, we've recently had an opening in the West Wing!" he smirked.

_Uhhh last I checked this was a palace, not a boarding house…who is this man anyways? What am I doing trusting him?_

He led the confounded Babylonians through the labyrinthine hallways of the palace, each surpassing the last in gold, gems, and accouterments.

Ninazu smirked.

"A spoiled brat like you'd feel right at home here, no?"

Sehjaah clenched her fists. Gritting her teeth, she forced a smile to rupture her scowl and spoke with a frail sense of calm, "If it wasn't for the priest before me I'd--"

"Ahh don't give him the wrong idea, now! First impressions are the most important you know!" Ninazu leered as he sauntered leisurely ahead of her.

"Pardon this _heresey,_ brother dear, but I would hardly call myself a brat."

"Of course _you _hardly would."

She ignored him.

"I was raised in a paradise of luxury and riches that I chose willingly to desert in order to assist someone in thesalvaging of his people's fate."

"Yeah, because you fancy him, and daddy-kins' fortune couldn't buy him for you."

She gasped.

"I haven't he vaguest idea of his appearance! And furthermore--" Sehjaah crashed into Ninazu's back.

Rubbing her forehead, she hissed, "Why'd you stop you klutzy oaf?" She glanced up. After what seemed as an epoch of blind, thoughtless following of the priest (mainly Ninazu), they had come to a halt before a large iron gate.

Seizing the silent denouement, (quiet had been rare within the siblings' bickering), Priest Akunadin used this as his chance to speak.

"I leave you here; at the entrance to the West Wing of the palace, where you will be staying as long of time as we find you competent," he said sternly, emphasizing the dexterity she would need to hold such a respected position. "Your room is located not too far from here. Simply continue down this hallway, take a left and climb three flights up, turn right and walk down the gold hallway until it intersects with three others at which you will follow the one with the Eye of Horus carved in the molding in sapphire. Then go forth but turn left at the vase depicting the River of Nile and descend those two staircases before turning left once more at the end of the hall and going down a final flight of stairs. Your room will be the first on the left. I trust you are able to find your way?"

Sehjaah blinked.

"Please sir, I mean you no disrespect, but if I ascend three flights of stairs and then descend two and one more--"

"I trust you are able to find your way?" he reiterated, harsher.

She nodded quickly and turned to her brother to translate.

"Then I depart. Be at the imperial thrown room, in _presentable _condition, and be prepared to be introduced to the royal court, and answer whatever questions they may have for you. Be prompt. Tardiness will not help you remain in the palace; much less in the pharaoh's trust." Akunadin said bitterly before he whisked away, smirking.

_Absolutely adore scaring the heck out of the idiots who even think they have a chance of being accepted…It's going to be funny to watch her stumble blindly around the palace asking servants for help….or, maybe she'll come across the interrogator…._

His creased cheeks lifted up as his lips curled into a devious smile.

_that would be a sight well worth watching…. Just as well, I'll tell everyone to head to the court at sunset; she should have found it by then…._

* * *

"Did you understand any of that? I think you translated it to me incorrectly, because if memory serves, you claim we ascend three flights of stairs and-- " Ninazu asked Sehjaah.

She looked at him; crestfallen. "I know! I tried to ask him about it but he simply asked me if I was capable of maneuvering, to which of course I agreed. I'm not about to make myself appear inept now!"

"Oh you shouldn't worry about just appearing inept…" Ninazu muttered quietly.

She groaned. "NINAZU! Come on! I need your help! This isn't the time for jokes!"

"Did I say I was joking?"

"NINAZU!"

"Fine, fine. Tell you what; I'll find your room, get you out of my hair, and go attend to my business. Deal?"

"It isn't just that! I told you he wants me to appear in the royal throne room within the confines of an hour-- without knowing where it is!"

Ninazu shook his head an sighed exasperatedly. "Eye of Horus, was it?"

* * *

They burst into her room, fatigued.

The walls were a brilliant shade of gold, with the cornice delicately scripted with black hieroglyphs.

There were few pieces of furniture present in the room; other than the enormous bookshelves lining the walls, a coal leather chair, a hefty yet tasteful ebony desk ornamented with motifs of gold, and a heart at the far corner of the room. Sehjaah's luggage was piled tidily on a mahogany wool rug in the center of a room.

"This is it, then?" Ninazu asked, taking in the dark wood of the towering bookshelves lining the walls, crammed neatly with manuscripts.

"It better be…" Sehjaah muttered. "Now, leave! I have to change!"

"Snippy little brat!" he grouched and ambled to the door angrily.

Lifting a beige valise off the rug, she gasped. Woven carefully into the carpet were intricate illustrations delineating a myth concerning Anubis, Lord of the Dead.

Sehjaah quickly drew a silk, white dress from the pouch, gazing mesmerized at the gorgeous carpet.

_If only I had more time….._

Hobbling toward the door, she gave one last shove and her foot slipped into her fawn wedges as she quickly lashed the straps. She rushed out of the room, fastening her silver necklet.

"I'm sorry! I'm just really flustered!" she sighed. "It's critical Iappear to be exceptionalwhen dealing withthe royal court the first time!Sometimes, that can be all you need to survive."

Ninazu smiled weakly, "Let's just get you to the throne room. They'll--"

Sehjaah waved her palm to stop him.

"No. It's fine. Honestly! You've done more than enough; welcoming me home, accompanying me through stretches of periled deserts of Egypt, and finding my own room! Willingly! It's more than what I can say I myself have done for you!"

"Come Sehjaah, father wouldn't-"

"Really. You have your own affairs to attend to. I'm but keeping you."

"That anxious to get started, eh? I'll keep my thoughts to myself; seeing as how you've been troubled. But--"

"I'd appreciate that. Now I'll see you out."

"But he strictly said--"

Sehjaah turned to her brother. "To find the throne room; and that's exactly what I'm doing."

* * *

They stood perched upon the marble stairs beofre the grand palace entrance.

"Sehjaah" Ninazu turned somber. "Take care of yourself. I've heard of all the scoundrels that raid the palace; don't think yourself safe because you lie behind ornate walls. And, I look forward to visiting you here occasionally; whilst you are breathing! "

Sehjaah gasped sharply. It had been a long while since her brother had spoken so morbidly.

They pulled each other in a locked embrace; Ninazu gently stroking strands of her hair.

"Take care of yourself…" he murmured once more. "Take care…"

_This may be the last time we meet. Even nobles have been murdered before in these halls. Thieves wouldn't hesitate to slit their throat, much less hers._

Sehjaah felt a sweltering heat radiating from her cheeks; her head pounding hectically. The rims of her eyes began to dampen and she tightened her grasp on her sibling.

_My closest friend…my counseling comrade…my cherished companion…. Your company is greatly treasured…more than you'll ever know. You fortified my weak emotions; taught me more than any of my instructors! You would treat my wounds, scorn my tactlessness, and defend my worth. I could play with you, dine with you, horseback ride with you, travel with you, speak to you; I could trust you…depend on you… We shared humor and sorrow, privileges and restrictions, holidays and punishments… You were--are, truly more than a brother; and I may never see you again…_

Ninazu tore himself away speechlessly, keeping his gaze directed toward the tiles below; leaving Sehjaah astounded.

"I need to be going." he said gruffly. I wish to reach the city of Bubastis before dusk; and finish some barter there. And you have matters to be seen to as well." Ninazu nodded toward the stairs. "Farewell…"

He turned and strode quickly down the staircase, his lavish robes brushing the steps below him.

"Ninazu!" Sehjaah cried frantically, cupping her hands together though he was but a short distance away. Ninazu turned his head to the side, awaiting her words. "Save me one of those "business meetings" of yours now and then; if your not too busy being successful!"

His lips curled slightly upwards; before turning quickly away and rushing down the steps.

Sehjaah watched him miserably; silhouetted against the blazing sun, galloping out of the gates and dashing into the depths of the barren dunes of Egypt.


	3. The Puzzling Puzzle

Crestfallen, Sehjaah turned from the adorned brass doors of the palace's colossal entrance and made her way back, past the stony faces of sentinels and weary expressions of servants.

_Why so down? I mean, I'm sure it'll be fun! Residing in a glorious palace, solving a mystery; er, sort of. Now, I just need to concentrate on finding that throne room_.

Turning toward a redwood staircase, she prepared to ascend when she abruptly stopped.

_What?_

She had been so preoccupied wading in her thoughts that she hadn't realized she had come across an obstruction; a man.

_Ugh, hope it's not that cruel brute of a priest. _

"Oh, excuse me…." She murmured apologetically.

She stepped to the side; and so did he. She stepped to the other side; and he did as well. After a few more moments of their bizarre waltz, Sehjaah stepped back down, perplexed

"I see you haven't yet learned to walk." He scorned.

His brash audacity shocked her. She glanced up at him, bewildered, his tall, well-built figure easily towering over her. Brooding, lavender eyes glared down at her; bronzed arms folded across his chest; daring her to retort. His eyes were lined with lengthy tails of kohl; adding a rugged edge to his refined appearance. Astonishingly, his ash blonde hair stood erect; pointed in every direction; resembling the vigorous flames of a roaring fire. He was cloaked in a silk violet cape, neatly grazing the backs of his ankles; and lavish golden jewelry, glittering ostentatiously in the afternoon sun.

Sehjaah was about to return his courtesy when she reluctantly restrained herself; she couldn't let some swine's incivility ruin her chance to become someone well distinguished throughout the palace.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she moved to his side and stalked up the stairs. Just as she was about to jog down the hall, she gasped. That had been her chance! The man she had stumbled into had clearly been of an illustrious standing; he would have surely known the location of the throne room! Scowling, she took off down the hall, determined to find the room before Priest Akunadin's arrival.

_No more distractions!_

* * *

Sehjaah rushed into the throne room, panting. Exasperated, she ignored the elaborately carved mosaics, shimmering, gemmed tapestries, and adroitly painted columns that fought for her attention. Glistening gold, silver, and jeweled ornamentations flaunted the flamboyant intricacy of the palace. There wasn't a single exposed crook left for the eye to wander; every inch of the grand room had been bedecked and bejeweled as a reflection of the honored and beloved repute with which the pharaoh was esteemed. 

A plummeting sensation settled within the pit of her stomach, as her eyes skimmed the space around her. Sehjaah groaned silently as she grudgingly acknowledged the lack of presences.

_No. This has to be it. There probably not here yet. It's not like this room could be anything else now, could it?_

Closing her eyes, she knelt upon the tiles next the long strip of carpet running from the entrance of the room to the throne, unsure of where to wait.

* * *

Someone grabbed her shoulder roughly, jerking her awake. Sehjaah's eyes snapped open as she leapt to her feet, startled. Quickly glancing up, a heavy sense of foreboding caused her to tense upon discovering tufts of long, spiked blond hair. Suddenly, she realized there were three colors; purple, black, and blond; layered into his thick hair. Robed in finery, the young man complemented the garlanded room harmoniously.

He had round, vivid crimson eyes that flickered with innocent benignity; unlike anything she had before seen.

The perpetrator laughed; the perpetrator being the Pharaoh Atem himself.

"I didn't mean to frighten you!"

Sharply inhaling, her gaze snapped to her sandals.

"Oh, it's fine, sire…", mumbled Sehjaah, gradually distinguishing the same absence of commotion befalling the throne room around her.

He squinted curiously.

"Might you be that Babylonian I've heard quite so much about?" he inquired politely.

_You mean the one that's spent the last who-knows-how-long wandering carelessly around this maze of a palace in hopes of reaching some God forsaken throne room in order to nurture a constructive reputation that may encourage and determine my rank in such a highly regarded institution? Yup._

"Ahh…yeah—yes! Yes, I am! Flattered you noticed!" She spoke nervously.

"_Yeah'? 'YEAH?' Not even peasants say 'yeah' to the pharaoh! Why am I choking?_

"Well, can you expound your presence in the imperial throne room?" he asked, smiling.

"I was told—Priest Akunadin gave me specific instructions to report to the imperial throne room to be presented to the great Pharaoh and his grand court; which I seek admittance into." Sehjaah spoke quietly.

She couldn't overcome the intensity of the affectionate security he seemed to envelop her in. Merely standing before him soothed her tension with a relief as allaying as cold water poured over one who just returned from long travels in the desert.

"At this time?" he queried unbelievingly.

"Yes, he asked me to find it as within the limitations of an hour!"

"_Find_ it?", gaped the prince. "Your first day here? Well congratulations! This palace is a maze in itself!"

She smiled. "Thank you. Should I go to find Akunadin?"

The young prince waved his arm carelessly. "I'll send for him; you've been through enough. We'll just introduce you to the six guardians now."

He clapped his hands and a short boy scurried into the room, gazing at the prince's feet, not bothering to acknowledge Sehjaah.

"Go fetch High Priest Akunadin if you would, and tell him to gather the Six Sacred Guardians of the Pharaoh and bring them here," he proclaimed.

Suddenly, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Where is your sibling?"

"Oh, he left directly after seeing I was so graciously attended to in order to carry out some commerce in Bubastis."

"Shame," muttered the Pharaoh, frowning. "It would have been a pleasure to meet him. I heard he constructed an entirely new, more efficient system of irrigation? And of course he is renowned for his business ventures."

"Oh, he'll be coming back soon!" she added quickly. "He'd be honored to meet you."

Just then Priest Akundain strode purposefully into the room, leading several others.

"We were summoned, your majesty?"

He widened his eyes at Sehjaah.

_Hn, she actually found it, in time too…._

"Ah yes! You are to be introduced to the newest apprentice of the court! However, being as she is, she'll be easily secure a place within the court!" Pharaoh Atem announced, smiling kindly at Sehjaah.

Sehjaah beamed.

_He's so welcoming! He makes me feel at such ease! With his lovely personality, he definitely more than deserves to be pharaoh! _

Suddenly, she glanced at the large, golden pyramid he wore about his neck.

_Why is that so familiar?_

She studied the people who just walked in. Yes, they all had different golden trinkets in their possession, all of which held a like resemblance.

She was about to ask if there was any connection when she imagined Priest Akunadin's condescending response, "You've a keen eye; but your ill prepared. A true member of the court would have already deduced this from his studies."

"First," Pharaoh Atem's deep voice rang out. "As I see you have already met, High Priest Akunadin. The younger brother of the former Pharaoh Akunumkanon, my father, he has been a member of the court the longest and has served Egypt well. As you can see, he of the seven sennen items, he wields the millennium eye and always has his country's best interests at heart."

He went on to speak about High Priest Seto, High Priest Mahado, High Priest Shada, High Priestess Isis, and High Priest Karim, each one nodding curtly to Sehjaah except for smiling Isis.

"Mahado! Mahado!" a girl cried hysterically. "MAHADO!" A large visor was slung across her short, spiked auburn hair. She was clad in a short beige dress trimmed with gold, her teal eyes glittering.

"I was only trying this new vanishing hex when suddenly I—hey! Who's she?" she pointed inquisitively at Sehjaah.

"Not now Mana, we're in the midst of acquaintance", Priest Mahado murmured firmly.

Mana sighed dejectedly. "All right, but you need to see what happened after!" she whined. Dashing out the door, she got one last shriek in.

"NICE TO MEET YOU!" she screamed and waved, giggling as she ran away.

"Having trouble controlling your students, Mahado?" Priest Seto sneered.

Priest Mahado spoke quietly, "An instructor doesn't seek to control his pupils, Priest Seto. He seeks to enlighten them."

Priest Seto exhaled sharply and turned to face the Pharaoh.

"As that little performance demonstrates, we are ardently engaged in assuring the empire's safety against the scoundrels behind the recent assaults. I beg your pardon and permission to leave, your highness" he declared.

"Not yet!" a dwarfish, chubby man strode in the hall, clutching something delicately between his fingers. A cloth veiled his mouth and nose, while the traditional regal hat sat upon his head, exposing only enigmatic eyes.

"Shimon Muran! My best advisor!" said the prince welcomingly. "You, of course, have already had the pleasure of meeting our guest, through those letters in which you two corresponded."

_Ahh, so midget-man here is the one that I wrote to for permission to apply to the court? Interesting…._

He waddled to Sehjaah, extending the wrapped object in his hands.

"You have managed t expertly navigate your way through the complicated halls of the palace; in astonishing time I might add. From speaking with your people, and of course, our letters, you have proved to be quite an interesting, clever young girl; having traveled all over the world!" At this, the Sacred Guardians began to stare at her a tad more respectfully.

"Your strategic wit and analytical abilities will be further tested in exams to come, as well as your general knowledge of Egypt and its history. But aside from all that," he handed her the item, "Confirm an exceptional aptitude for critical thinking by deciphering this…by the end of the next new moon."

_A whole month? That shouldn't be hard…_

She daintily peeled the paper off the article, revealing a cryptex.

Priest Shada seemed impressed.

"You've taken this tests to new heights, Shimon!"

The elderly man shrugged, pleased.

"It isn't wise to take chances with the pharaoh's safety."

Priest Isis turned to the Pharaoh.

"Do excuse us, my king, but we have dire arrangements to return to," she said softly. "It was nice meeting you, Sehjaah."

The guardians turned and shuffled quickly from the room.

"Sire, we must hasten! You too have duties to attend to!" Shimon Muran urged the young sovereign.

"Quite right," Atem mumbled. "Sehjaah, shall you encounter difficulty in finding your room?"

"No, your majesty. I'll be fine, thank you."

She saw them out the door, and headed back to her room.

* * *

**Another teaser. ; ) Why? Simply because I can. **

**"Do not dare to contradict me before anyone!" he growled fiercely, bright eyes flaring with anger. **

**She jerked her arm out of his grasp defiantly.**

**"Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do? I'll say what I please before whomever I choose!" she hissed indignantly. Suddenly, she became aware of how near to the column she was, with Malik looming over her. **

**He roughly twisted her arm painfully. Sehjaah dropped to her knees in anguish, trying to tug her arm away. **

**"Care to repeat that?" he asked, smiling cruelly.**

**She kicked him harshly behind his knees in a futile attempt to bring him to the ground. Malik stood unflinching. He twisted her arm forcibly harder, bending it back. She cried out, agonized, and repetitively kicked his shin as she pulled her arm rougher. **

**"That isn't working now is it?" he stated critically.**

OO whart are YOU looking at!


	4. The Quarters Dilemma

She fiddled with the gold cryptex, anxiously.

_I underestimated the difficulty of this task…It may take well over a month!_

She turned it on its side. The Eye of Horus was inscribed upon the base, nothing lacking of the ordinary.

"What do you happen to be doing in my study?" someone probed sourly.

Sehjaah's eyes jerked open. It was the same man she had confronted upon the stairwell. His arms were folded across his chest as he glowered at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Can I help you?" she asked nastily.

"Yes," he snapped, "Why are you in my study?"

She stared at him quizzically as her heart dropped.

_Don't tell me this is the wrong room. PLEASE don't tell me… _

"I was told to remain here."

"In _my _study?" he voiced disbelievingly.

Sehjaah was quickly tiring of his scorn.

"Yes!" she rejoined rather harshly.

"Don't act irritated, Y_ou're _the one in _my _room!" he snarled.

"They should have told you then! It's not _my _fault--" she was interrupted.

"You screwed up the directions, didn't you?"

"NO!"

He bent down and snatched her hand, yanking her up, as he proceeded to exit the room

She wrenched her hand out of his grasp.

"Where are you going!"

"To find out where you're supposed to be", he replied irritably. "Now who told you to wait there?"

She crinkled her brow in thought.

"Erm, Priest Akunadin, I thought it was…"

He grimaced in disgusted incredulity.

"How'd _you _meet him personally?

She was about to tell him they had come across each other completely by chance when she hesitated; she had had quite enough of his pretension. She rolled her eyes.

"Obviously, because they know who I _am_. I--"

He interrupted with a sharp yank on her arm.

"Knowing who you are, they should have placed you in the stables. Or preferably, the dungeon; either would suit fine."

Sehjaah was seething.

"How did a swine like you, of such crass quality, get admitted into the Pharaoh's court?" she asked.

He smirked.

"I do my job well."

"I doubt it, but because were on the subject, it is…….?"

"High Interrogator. I oversee all tortures, inquisitions, and my personal favorite; executions; as well as several portions of the military wing" he stated carelessly.

For some peculiar reason, this quieted her.

He stopped abruptly before to large brass doors.

Sehjaah crinkled her nose in dread; after all she had been through, she was in no mood to wait.

"How long will this take?"she whined.

"If I knew, WE WOULDN'T BE OUT HERE!" he rebuked.

"WELL YOUR HIGH INTERROGATOR! DO SOMETHING!" she screeched.

He leaned on the wall, folding his arms upon his chest.

"Gladly. Now would you prefer to be tortured _then _executed or merely a slow, painful execution?" he smirked.

She rolled her eyes and stood.

* * *

Jaded, Sehjaah stared at him. She inhaled softly.

_I'll try being nice…_

"Look, I'm sorry, but I must discover how to unlock that cryptex, so I need to head back."

He whirled around to face her, his lengthy cape flapping sharply with his sudden movement. Narrowed, lavender eyes, blazing with wrath, seared her own.

"_YOU_, will do no such thing. You will stay here until I discern your assigned quarters."

Before she could return an exasperated reply, Priest Akunadin tenderly stepped out from his room, staring curiously at them.

"And why is there an audience?" mused Priest Akunadin.

Malik turned indifferently to him.

"She claims you instructed her to my study as her designated quarters, for Ra knows how long" he pronounced.

Priest Akunadin closed his eyes and sighed.

"I'm sorry if you weren't informed; but with the coming of the Month of Thuthi, and its customary coronations, we have prominent guests from all corners of the empire, as well as a few from surrounding ones; such as Greece, Babylon, Sumer, and Nubia. We hadn't another unoccupied room" he said insincerely.

Sehjaah exhaled slowly.

_So I got the room right…. heh... in your face..._

His eyes widened as his jaw fell.

"That's a mistake. Whether it was hers, or yours, you senile, witless, old fo--"

Sehjaah fidgeted uncomfortably; detesting the humiliation of the awkward moment.

"She is to remain in your study until we deem it necessary; and you will make nothing more of it" Priest Akunadin stated simply.

Malik snarled irritated.

"_We? _Fool! You aren't--!"

"Sehjaah, if you would?" Priest Akunadin pronounced warmly.

She stared at him inquisitively.

_OH!_

"Ah-of course!" she stammered, turning toward the room. She glowered as she stalked through the halls.

_What is his problem? His study is GIAGANTIC as it is, and his room is even larger and more flamboyantly furnished! Why the fuss?_

Priest Akunadin waited patiently until Sehjaah's footsteps were out of earshot, before clutching Malik's arm.

"UNHAND me, you filthy--"

"Listen!" hissed Priest Akunadin, "For some reason unbeknownst to myself, Shimon Muran, has deemed her somewhat worthy and a very beneficial addition to the court. Obviously, at times like these, we're all very concerned for the _Pharaoh's _safety," he paused to narrow his creased eyes at Malik, "so she needs to be closely studied."

Malik loathed where this was going.

"We entrust only the most adept and high ranked with this, since it regards the _Pharaoh's _safety."

Malik snarled, "What are you saying?"

Priest Akunadin shook his elbow, annoyed, as Malik stare back at him, unaffected.

"I'm saying keep an eye on her! Don't keep her in your sight the entire time but still, it's necessary to gather more information about her; who better to do that then the High Interrogator himself? You're also the commander of our largest and most capable cavalry, may I remind you."

"I would say flattery will get you nowhere, but seeing as this is all true…"

Akunadin ignored him.

"She's sharp though, so she'll catch you if your not subtle. Make sure you're aware of her whereabouts at all times! For all we know, she could be a spy from Babylon!"

Malik snorted in retort, "And what will she be able to do? Aside from that, Babylon has never dared to wage war with Egypt!"

Priest Akunadin released his elbow.

"Don't make this more complicated than it has to be! Just watch her!" and with that, he strode down the hall.

Malik glared at him spitefully.

"Oh, and I've already relieved you of your key-- no need to give it to her."

Scowling, Malik made his way back to his room.

* * *

He strode into her room nonchalantly.

"Change."

Sehjaah turned to stare blankly at him.

"I'm sorry?"

Malik narrowed his eyes and stood against the door.

"Change. Your clothes."

"For what?" she asked, bewildered.

"The Festival of the Pharaoh's. The day _Atem _is crowned Pharaoh." he replied rather harshly.

Sehjaah squinted quizzically.

_Why does he dislike the pharaoh?_

"Now CHANGE!" He barked.

"I would if you would leave my room!" she snapped back.

He realized this and sauntered out the door that joined their rooms together, grinning and muttering something about modesty.


	5. Mana's Big Bang

Bakura threw his head back and cackled sinisterly. Draped in the glittering riches of the tomb, he turned to his men.

"You can never be dressed too formally when visiting a place!" he declared sardonically.

He patted the festooned sarcophagus of the former pharaoh, smirking.

"I think I'll bring this along as a peace offering!"

Clutching his sack bloated with the stolen treasures, he stood up and dragged the coffin behind him as he headed toward his fellow thieves, standing guard at the entrance.

He sneered, "The king is waiting, and we mustn't be late!"

* * *

"Well, she can be somewhat overexcited, but she has good intentions at heart," Priest Karim said, glancing at the young apprentice bounding around Mahad.

Malik grunted.

"She practices her annoying hexes on _everything _that moves. Including humans. You may be patient, but she's skipping rope on my last good nerve." He sneered.

"Well, it's not like you're actually doing anything about it, aside from complaining," Karim replied defensively.

Malik propped his back against the column, grinning devilishly.

"That's where you're mistaken…" he trailed off suggestively.

Karim turned to him, head tilted curiously to the side.

Malik merely nodded toward Mana and Mahad.

"Watch…"

Mana took a deep breath and grimaced. Rolling her neck, she cleared her throat and raised her shoulders. Mana stretched her arms felinely and shook them. Flicking her wrist that wielded her wand a few times, she closed her eyes and bent back to stretch her spine.

"Mana!" Priest Mahad scolded firmly. "Keep not the Pharaoh waiting."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' she apologized feverishly, "I'm just going through my preparations. Mustn't disappoint the _pharaoh _now, must I?"

"Mana, please," Pharaoh Atem sounded hurt, "Atem will do."

_She still thinks I'll change into someone too good to be her friend…_

She winked gleefully, "I know, I know! I just like messing with my oldest friend!"

"Mana, if you would!" Mahad pronounced impatiently.

"Here goes…" she breathed unsurely.

"_Lo Apep! Demon of the night! _

_By your power I perform this rite!_

_Grant me your powers of dark and storm,_

_Erase from existence the following form!"_

She threw her arm forward toward the pedestal.

All of a sudden, a loud explosion ruptured the mounting tension . Putrid mists of amber vapors seeped throughout the veranda. Frightened aristocrats dropped their cigars and began franticly fanning the air.

Screaming bloody murder, Mana sprinted back to her instructor, running circles around him. The various irritated advisors and ministers who had been quietly chattering turned to frown at the young mage.

"Mana, are you injured?" The Pharaoh and Priest Mahad inquired simultaneously.

"What happened? My vanishing spell! My vanishing spell!" mourned Mana, clutching onto Mahad's back.

"It vanished…" Malik muttered under his breath.

Karim gaped at Malik in disbelief. He turned his head to the side to hide his laughter.

Mahad exhaled sharply, yet ironically, spoke calmly. "This isn't the first time you have crowed about a new incantation you are nowhere near mastering, Mana. Being a true magician insists hard work, discipline, and diligence. I have yet to see the first and second of these."

"how How HOW?" wailed Mana. "It worked perfectly before!"

"Might you need more practice and less confidence?" suggested Mahad.

"No! I-- Hey, Karim, what's wrong with you?" Mana pointed at the priest.

Karims shoulders shook harder.

She turned to Malik, wide eyes demanding an answer.

Malik's resolve was unwavering.

"Forgive him, he's yet to overcome an infirmity. The cold doesn't do him well, and with us resting here on the veranda…"

"But it's the summer!" she squealed Abruptly, she directed a pointed finger at Malik, accusingly. "_You _should take him back to his quarters!" She folded her arms upon her chest; the matter resolved.

Malik smirked at Karim. "I think I will…"

Much to the irritation of the surrounding nobles, Mana cupped her hands and screamed after them, "You better get well before the pharaoh's crowning ceremony tonight!"

He strode back into the palace; Karim following closely behind.

Karim lifted his fist off his mouth, at liberty to guffaw.

"I almost regret it! Did you hear that scream!"

Malik snickered.

"Operative word being _almost_. It was a free moment; for me, something rare. I might as well be productive and teach that fool a thing or two regarding magic."

Karim seemed impressed. "_You _know magic?"

Malik peered at him incredulously, "I was apprentice to one of the most prominent in all Egypt for a little over a decade."

He went in his room without so much as a word of parting. Lifting his cape over his head, he discarded it on his enormous, four-poster. Yawning, he stooped forward and stretched his shoulders.

"Amin!" Malik called. Rolling his neck, he awaited his searvant impatiently. Not a single, scampering footstep answered him.

"Amin!' he snapped the name of one of his more trusted attendants again.

_Where is that twit? I need a specific text to draft the royal guard's new positioning…Besides that I need to change for that Ra damned idiot of a Pharaoh…_

Ripping open the adjoining door to his study, he widened his eyes incredulously at the sight before quickly shutting them; smirking.

_I suppose I should knock…and then barge inconsiderately in._

He waited for the shriek.

Suddenly, he whipped open his eyes, regardless of what she may be doing.

She wasn't there.


	6. Blasphemy

Sehjaah stood against the railing, admiring the chilly desert night. Sinewy clouds were strung on the sky, traversing swiftly through the night. The pearly moon shone faintly on the rolling dunes; silhouetted against a cobalt sky. The lustrous heavens sparkled with celestial light, sequins of stars glimmering upon the velvety gown of night. A cursive desert breeze gently tousled the lilies in the gardens below, ruffling the strutting peacocks.

Sehjaah looked out to the distant town, bustling with tumult. The noisy commotion appeared to be a sort of festival. Flickering fires dotted the village, accompanied by the pounding of drums. _Is that for the Pharaoh? No, the townspeople wouldn't create that much of a ruckus…it must be an early ritual for the Opet Festival….._

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" she asked the young boy standing beside her.

He nodded quickly and glanced around, his frowzy russet bob jerking. She had found him outside Malik's door, standing obediently. His brown eyes did not twinkle with the captivating vigor of a child, they glazed dully with tedious servitude and hard work.

Tilting her head up, she studied the sky once more. How she yearned to stroke the cheek of night! The now dark sky seemed so palpable; so tangible. She raised her hand slowly, slowly

Someone wrenched her hand out of the air. Malik stormed onto the balcony, fuming.

Snapping out of her daze, Sehjaah turned to look.

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU WANDER OFF TO, FOOL?" Malik roared, infuriated. "I HAD NEARLY HALF OF MY _SERVANTS _OUT TO LOCATE YOU! WE'RE LATE FOR THE CEREMONY!" He emphasized servants, yet ignored the boy completely. The child cringed in advance of the inevitable punishment soon to come.

Vexed, she jerked her wrist back just as he let go, sending her stumbling backwards. He smirked.

She raised her narrowed eyes to meet his, glaring.

Her elongated eyes caught him off guard.

Malik barely quailed; he hadn't studied her so closely before.

"The Babylonian…" he muttered, mulling the concept over.

"I'm no fool! And it's none of your concern!" she said crossly, "but your here now anyways; no point in asking…"

Sighing, she dusted herself and stood, "I was only standing out on a balcony, relax…"

He snatched her wrist. Before he could strike her for all the trouble, and throttle the boy for his desertion, she spoke.

"I need to ask you something though. When are the Feast of Thoth and the Opet Festival?"

"The Month of Thuthi," he sneered. "Shouldn't a "scholar" know that's _next _month?"

"Then what's the bonfire for?" she inquired, pointing to the city.

_Damn idiot; she has to know about every little--_

Malik turned to the blazing fire, irritated with her untimely questioning. Abruptly, he widened his eyes, snarling.

"That's no damned bonfire!"

* * *

Bakura laughed sinisterly as he galloped through the pandemonium.

"Fireworks! In honor of the new heir! Compliments of the Pharaoh!" he yelled to the petrified townspeople.

His henchmen rode behind him; bombarding the village with arrows. They swiftly reached into their quivers and drew an arrow. Lighting the point ablaze, they strung back their bow and lobbed the arrows into buildings, scorching the marketplace and releasing fire upon the terrified villagers.

Young children hid in dark alleys, trembling. Mothers screamed as they scrambled to their shrieking infants. Angered cries of indignation sharply lashed out at the uncaring thieves. The weak and feeble scrambled to flee. Gallant men tried to round up a regiment of villagers in vain, as some picked stones of the roads and pitched them at Bakura.

Dodging them, he dashed through the courtyard, halting before the fountain.

"The Nile will run red with your blood!" he hollered at the chaos. "And the skies shall be black with smoke! Pray to your _Ra _to pierce _that_!"

He paused to laugh cruelly, "Or maybe the _Pharaoh _will save you!"

* * *

Malik and Sehjaah burst into the throne room just as the girls had begun their dance. Raven hair looped in braids, they twirled delicately around the throne room; their bright scarves and ruffled, gaudy skirts fluttering around them. They swayed synchronously to the patter of tambourines and pounding of drums.

Perched on the wide podium that held the throne, six guardians watched the scene warily.

Malik paid no heed to the ministers, nobles, advisors, and military officers enjoying the celebration.

Pausing before the king he shouted, "BAKURA IS HEADING TWOARD THE PALACE!" He stood, oblivious to the commotion rackets him.

The nobles screamed frightfully and the dancers turned to the Pharaoh, chattering uneasily. Malik stared at them strangely, befuddled with their fear.

Suddenly, a golden necklace glowed.

Priestess Isis screamed and pointed to a balcony above the throne.

"MAHAD!"

Flinging his cape before the Pahraoh, Mahad seized the poisoned dart speeding toward the young sovereign.

Snarling, Priest Seto turned to the guards.

"STOP THE INTRUDER!" he demanded.

Rushing at the man from all angles, they quickly have him cornered. They brought him down off the balcony and swarmed him; forming a cluster so thick that the offender couldn't be seen. He was easily pinned to the ground and beaten. Screaming, the man covered his head with his arms and crouched against the wall.

Suddenly the bulk began to part, making way for Malik.

Sehjaah widened her eyes. _What does he think he's doing?_

Priest Seto spared her a glance.

"He's the highest military commander."

She spun him in shock.

_What is he a mind-reader?_

His lips curved into a smirk as he observed at her from the corner of his eye.

* * *

Smiling smugly, Malik stopped before the trespasser, and stoop with his arms crossed.

The sentries stared at their commanding officer, impatiently waiting orders.

The intruder's squalid, tattered clothes clung loosely to an emaciated body. Rings of crumpled skin arced out from beneath wet eyes, like silken wings of a moth, either from the passing years, or a life spent scrounging for scraps behind the dumpsters; a life that knew only hardship and misery. His hoarse breath rasped in and out of him, chest heaving violently. A gaping mouth revealed yellowed, eroded fangs.

His right hand clasped against a blowgun, it was pressed firmly to his side, as a means of ceasing the pain of the beating. Soiled fingernails dug into the tile as he struggled to pull himself erect, much to the disgust of the sentinels. Several spears jabbed at the air before him, complemented with curses, forcing to slump back down against the wall.

Smirking, Malik gazed condescendingly down upon him; silently degrading the man.

Wiping his mouth with the back of a coarse hand, he spat at Malik, "Don't you _patronize _me! _You're _no man! _You're _a **_subordinate _**of the Pharaoh! Your life is revolves around only _one _thing; assuring the Pharaoh's prosperity! I am courageous! I am decisive! I live for myself and serve only myself! I am a man! I stand by what I did without regret! And I'd do it again if I could!"

The court gasped in unison; all; all except for Malik.

Malik's amethyst eyes flared a lethal violet.

The man was doomed.

The instant after those fated words had been uttered, Malik's arm swooped down upon him. Eyes contracted to slits, Malik grasped the man's throat constrictively and swept him high off his feet.

The blowgun crashed onto the floor, it's collision reverberating in the silence of the stunned, petrified court.

His feet dangled sickeningly in the air as he wriggled desperately in Malik's grasp. Wheezing for breath, the offender scratched at his captor's ruthless hand. Malik's grip only tightened, widening his sadistic leer and aggravating the man's grating rattles.

"What was that?" Malik growled sinisterly.

The man's grotty cheeks, gray as soot, blued to a ghastly, wane hue; coiled veins bulging beneath the skin of his neck. His stifled gasps for air filled the revolted court.

Malik grinned murderously, nails carving into the intruder's throat.

Pharaoh Atem leapt from his throne.

"Malik, that's enough! Bring him to me!"

Malik laughed bitterly.

_Always the peacemaker…_

Dropping him harshly on the stone tiles, Malik gruffly snatched the collar of the man's shirt and hauled him across the room before the man could catch his tortured breath. He threw the trespasser before the Pharaoh violently. The man cried out as his jaw hurtled into the tiles at the king's feet.

"As you wish, revered Pharaoh," he replied, bowing with mock respect.

Pharaoh Atem studied Malik, disgusted. His lips were bowed into a tense grimace.

Priest Seto jeered, "Who is he to dare attempt to execute the Pharaoh's responsibilities? I propose he be punished as well."

Luckily Malik had disappeared.

Vehement, Priestess Isis strode to the edge of the platform upon which the imperial throne was seated.

"Assaulting the High Emperor of Egypt is an inexcusable crime!" she asserted angrily.

Priest Mahad eyed the man spitefully.

"We were in the midst of a sacred coronation," he said resentfully. His head whipped to the knot of guards still standing where the man had been surrounded.

"Guards! Have this man cast into the dungeons!" he yelled.

Priest Kaiba stepped forward.

"No. I have a better idea. Let us use this rascal to demonstrate the extent of our power for the new king" he suggested.

"Priest Akunadin, Shimon; does it seem befitting?" Seto demanded.

Shimon seemed impressed, while Priest Akunadin stood motionless.

"It shall be done!" Shimon's voice boomed.

"It is confirmed. We will conduct a Millennium Trial of this man's soul!" Priest Seto proclaimed to the guardians.

Shimon glanced at the Pharaoh who was still standing and ready to lunge out at the court. He clutched his fists so tightly together, his knuckles were a sharp white. He sat the apprehensive king back down on the throne.

"With a position of immense power habitually approaches immense peril," Shimon explained steadily, "and any felons who dare threaten the king of Egypt must be seen to accordingly."

The six guardians step off the stag and surround the man. Noticing the yet tensed Pharaoh, Priestess Isis smiled, "Please, do not be distressed, my king."

Priest Akunadin stared emotionlessly at him, "The creation of the Sacred Guardians was solely to guarantee the Pharaoh's well-being at all times."

Priest Seto directed the attention back to the prisoner. "Now, you shall be assesed by the dark magic resiing within the seven Millennium items. Priest Shada will begin." Priest Seto announced.

_Dark magic?_ Sejaah wondered. _That's widely practiced in Babylon as well! But for a trial!_

Suddenly she sensed something beside her. A jagged shadow had engulfed her own.

She peered out hesitantly from the crook of her eye.

Intrigued, Malik was leaning against the wall a few feet away from her, watching the trial intently.

_I never saw him slink away from the throne! He **IS** good…._

Shada's voice shook her back to attention.

"With the power of the Millennium Key, I shall read the prisoner's mind!" he declared authoritatively.

Gripping the golden ankh, he extended his arm before him to the criminal. Suddenly, the Mellenium Key began to glow.

Priest Shada's teal eyes flickered with excitement.

"The shadow of an evil creature lurks within the heart of the man before me," he concluded.

Priest Akunadin stepped forward and replaced Priest Shada.

"I will now evoke the energies of the Millennium Eye, exposing and extricating, the spirit that abides inside! Priest Akunadin cried fiercely.

As the golden eye began to shine, the man's mouth jerked open forcefully and his eyes swelled in fear.

Hacking, his shoulders shook violently as he vomited a dark shadow. The black, misty form began to pour fluidly, coursing from his lips.

The guests surveyed the spectacle silently.

Appalled, Sehjaah gasped tartly and covered her mouth with her palm. Her eyes swelled with revulsion. A chilling current jolted down her spine and coursed through her limbs. She dug herself against the wall; horrified.

_WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING TO HIM? Never before have I witnessed such wicked sorcery! There was dark magic in Babylon but--_

"You there!" Malik beckoned to a bulky guard standing near him.

Sehjaah observed him warily.

_What's he up to………_

He nodded toward Sehjaah. "She isn't well. Escort her to her quarters. "

She stared at Malik, bewildered.

"Her quarters, sir?" The man asked, scratching his head.

"I didn't stutter now did I? _HER_ QUARTERS!" Malik hissed impatiently. "She'll guide you,"

Sehjaah glanced at the man, apprehensive, "No! It's fine, sir. I'm fine, an I'd rather stay!"

She pitched Malik a confused look.

What does he think he's doing?

The guard grunted apathetically, "High Interrogator Malik ordered I return you to your chambers."

"What? No! He was-- he wasn't serious! I--"

The guard snatched her wrists and proceeded to tug her out of the room. She turned to Malik, turquoise eyes shimmering in raged perplexity.

He ignored her and continued watching the prosecution.

"Malik what are you doing! Tell him you were kidding!" she uttered softly, not wanting to disrupt the trial.

He gazed at her calmly, "Why should I lie? I very well meant it." His scrutiny spun toward the guard expectantly, who continued to pull her out of the room.

Her rosy cheeks prickled with the knowledge of the most elite of the Pharaoh's court watching her intently; as well as the criminals. She wrenched her wrists from the overly-obedient sentry and snapped, "You needn't tow me! I'm coming!" Sehjaah trudged angrily out of the room.

The ends of his thin, ribbony lips arched into a satisfied smirk.

_I was asked to "be aware of her whereabouts at all times", wasn't I? Besides, she can't witness the magic of the Sennen Item. I won't allow it. _

The Pharaoh peered at Shimon, masking his repulsion excellently, "Is this legal?"

Shimon stared at the Pharaoh worriedly, "You're grace, you haven't been acting much like yourself this entire day! Perhaps you are unwell?"

The Pharaoh shook his head furiously. "Blasphemy," he replied good-naturedly.


	7. The Entertainer's Entrance

BTW! THIS IS DEDICATED TO DURBA SAMANTA! SHE PWNZ!N SHE GETS DRACO MALFOY, WANNABEES!

* * *

The domed spires of the palace rose commandingly in the silky night sky.

Bakura bared his fangs with pleasure.

"It's time we made our presence known!" Bakura hissed. "Let this signal the start of the Ultimate Shadow Game!"

* * *

High Priest Akunadin turned to High Priest Seto. 

"Now, invoke the power of the Millennium Scimitar to bar the beast of shadows!" he cried.

Priest Seto raised the scimitar to the monstrous creature. A blast of white light erupted from the scimitar and hurtled toward the beast. Surrounded by the energies of the Millennium Scimitar, the monster was locked within an enormous stone tablet, its outline etched in the stone.

He turned to the Pharaoh, leering triumph faintly decked with gleaming triumph, "His Ka has been extracted. If you fancy, we may execute this vile insect."

Suddenly Akunadin's eyes widened; his countenance unreadable.

"No Seto!" he calls almost protectively.

Suddenly his voice resumes its usual condescension.

"No; the evil of his heart has been expelled. It is the obligation of the Six Sacred Guardians to let him free," he scolded.

"Release this man!" he decreed to the sentinels.

Displeased with Priest Akunadin's integrity, he spun on Priest Mahad.

"Palace security is your responsibility, Mahad," he scowled contemptuously. "How could this trivial criminal penetrate the Royal Guard?"

"You're right," Mahad agreed solemnly.

He knelt before the Pharaoh's throne in a remorseful bow.

"Assent my sincerest apologies Pharaoh; as the Millenium Ring has been behaving strangely as of late," he spoke, ashamed. "Sensing any illicit deeds is difficult. I beseech your permission to increase the defense of the Palace and secure the city."

"With pleasure," Pharaoh Atem consented cheerily. The court stared at him strangely.

Priest Akunadin peered at the silent court.

"Now what sort of celebration is this? Where are the drummers? Yes, you there; pick up the music again. Carry on with the--"

"Wait, Priest Akunadin…," Priestess Isis murmured mysteriously, looking down at her iluminating necklace.

Priest Seto tensed irritably. Priestess Isis' enigma was at times too much.

"I--I-- The Millennium Necklace detects an evil force!" she proclaimed. "It prowls just before the Palace gates, and wields magnificent spiritual energy!

* * *

A troupe of hooded figures hovered menacingly at the Palace's entrance. 

"Halt! Who goes there?" The captain of the Palace sentries demanded. Supporting him, the garrison brandished their lances ominously.

The cloaked foreigners continued their advance.

"Identify yourself!" cried the captain angrily.

"Fools!" the man hissed. "Step aside if you value your souls!"

He reined his horse sharply and the stallion vaulted over the baffled heads of the guard, a gilded sarcophagus soaring behind.

A young man of the sentinels gasped.

"That's--"

He had no time to finish his sentence. One of the thieves had hacked his shoulder with a machete, producing the desire affect. He collapsed onto the ground, groping for his spear.

"Ikkram!" Another sentry shouted anxiously.

"Pay attention to the intruders! We'll take care of him later!" barked Dawud, the Captain of the Royal Guard.

"Sound the alarm!" he roared.

* * *

The Millennium Ring glowed fervidly. 

Mahad's furtive eyes widened.

"We stand in the presence of utter hatred…pure evil," he breathed.

The court watched as yet another of the Palace guards fell unconscious to the floor.

Bakura stepped over him and entered the throne room.

"I'm quite offended! Someone didn't include me in the guest list!" he exclaimed.

"Bakura!" growled Atem fiercely, leaping off the throne.

The petrified entertainers scattered along with the guests.

"What do you want?" spat the Pharaoh.

Bakura chuckled menacingly.

"Oh, I believe you know what I came for…"

* * *

In a glorious beam of light, the monsters' attacks reverberate in a violent explosion as the two beasts tumble back toward their masters. 

Shada gasped.

Impossible! They are equals! Bakura compares with the power of an Egyptian God!

Pharaoh Atem uncurled and picked himself off the floor.

"Obelisk…" he groaned expectantly, recalling the creature to his Diadiankh.

Kneeling upon his knee, Bakura panted, grinning.

"Diabound!" he hissed. "To me!"

The vile beast returned willingly to its owner.

Trembling, Bakura slowly stood up.

If I hadn't obtained the power of Kaiba's Blue-Eyes, Obelisk would have exterminated Diabound! I best take my leave…for now…. The thief thought wickedly.

"We'll finish this later," he assured the Pharaoh. Turning to Mahad, he smirked, "Don't grow too fond of the Millenium Ring. At one point of time, it belonged to me."

Mahad snarled, as Isis tried soothingly to restrain him.

The thief turned and dashed out of the Palace.


	8. Bump in the Night

"Shhhh," She whispered to the horse, gently stroking his snout.

He nickered uneasily as she lead him to a darker path, lengthening the distance between him and his post.

She shivered. The hot desert vapors had converted into a wintry chill in night.

He crouched upon the ridge of the building, below the balcony, cool wind whipping his bangs wildly.

Messy white hair rushed out before him, glancing left and right in a seeking manner, followed by bellowes from the guard.

There was no time.

He would have to show his worth.

Someone clamped a hand over her mouth.

She let out a muffled scream and tried to pry her captor's hands off, dropping the bridle. Crying fearfully , horse reared up, it's hooves flailing in the air.

Keeping one palm over her mouth, he snapped the horse's reins harshly, silencing it. The poor animal flinched and paced timidly.

"Quiet!" he ordered, tightening his grip on her chin. She bit him.

* * *

Bakura's head jerked to the side as he narrowed his burning eyes.

_That's where it went! Stupid animal!_

* * *

Dare you scar the Pharaoh and leave unscathed?

He leapt off the ridge, pouncing on Bakura.

Falling…er…"landing" on ….actually…

Bakura shouted in surprise and jerked his shoulder forward violently in attempt of throwing the attacker off.

He clung onto Bakura's robe relentlessly, gripping the hood firmly. Bakura juddered back and forth, furious.

He slid to Bakura's arm, latching onto his sleeve doggedly.

Bakura cuffed him viciously on his skull, dazing the young boy.

Growling, Bakura snatched the boy's neck, hurling him onto the stone entry.

"You're fortunate!" Bakura snarled. "I haven't the time to slit your neck!"

Spotting the oncoming guards, he turned and sprinted away.

* * *

"WENCH!" he hissed, releasing her and shoving her roughly into the bushes.

Sehjaah leapt to her feet and faced the man, gasping at his piercing violet eyes.

"MALIK? What are you doing?" she whispered.

They didn't want to be heard.

"I should be asking _you _that," he scoffed, mounting the steed. "Now go back!"

Picking twigs out of her hair, she narrowed her eyes spitefully.

"NO! _YOU _go! I need to stop Bakura!"

He shrugged, smirking.

"Suit yourself…"

In one swift motion, he grabbed her waist and yanked her onto the horse. Securing her in front of him, he urged the stallion into a gallop.

They cantered nimbly down the dark path, wane moonlight shimmering in his tapered, lavender eyes.

His violet cape fluttered majestically as his silver-blonde hair rippled with the horse's speed.

Ruining the slightly enchanting moment, she elbowed his arm lightly as she didn't want to panic the horse further.

"Put me down!" she demanded quietly. "DOWN!"

"Oh, I will…"

Halting the stallion before the Palace Entrance, he lifted her up and pushed her off the horse.

Screaming faintly, she plummeted before a fallen boy.

"Amin?" she gasped.

Malik was unmoved.

"Take him back to my quarters," he instructed sternly.

With that, he spurred the stallion and trotted away in the night.

Sehjaah turned to the boy, feeling his wrist.

_He's unconscious…. _She mused.

She glanced around. How on earth was she supposed to carry him?

Bakura stepped out from behind the shadows of a marble column.

"So he started a family I see…"

"WE'RE NOT A FAMILY!" Sehjaah snapped, shocked to hear someone speak simultaneously with her.

She glanced behind her.

Malik, looking chivalrous as a knight, sat proudly upon the stallion, snarling.

_When'd he return? Oh well, the more the merrier! Unless there all psychotic, like these chums…._

"I told you to take him back to my chambers, didn't I?" he spoke sharply to Sehjaah.

"I'm no slave of yours!" she retorted hotly.

"You should learn to act like one!" he snapped. "For your own sake….."

"Was that supposed to _scare_ me?" she countered.

Ignoring her, he leapt off the horse and turned to smirk at Bakura.

"So you're no more than a petty thief? Is that it?" he affronted.

Bakura grinned.

"Every bit as much as you are mere slave of the Pharaoh," he replied unruffled.

Malik narrowed his eyes.

"Go inside…"

She ignored him and glared at Bakura; secretly pleased with his verbal abuse toward Malik.

"I SAID GET INSIDE!"

"FINE!" she screeched, nonchalant over her safety. Scooping up Amin, she dragged him into the Palace.

Bakura smirked at him.

"…Muut…." he muttered, in a dangerously low whisper. (Die in Arabic)

Drawing his sword he lunged at Malik, who easily sheathed his blade and countered it. Prancing in the vicinity of the Palace entrance, they sashayed, spiraling around each other in a deadly dance. They swiftly stepped and struck, barely evading each other.

Suddenly, Malik hit Bakura's fist with the gilded hilt of his sword.

Bakura's weapon fell from his hand, clattering loudly on the marble tiles.

Malik kicked the sword down the grand steps of the Palace's entrance.

"I serve no one.." he hissed.

Bakura cackled wickedly. His cruel, roan eyes shone brightly with deep-rooted hatred; a hatred that burned passionately in the dark abyss of his soul.

"Is that why you burn the midnight oil rearranging the Royal Guard?"

Malik wasn't stunned with his audacity; only furious. Something positively homicidal with Malik.

Outraged, he swung at Bakura;…. But was too slow.

Bakura leapt up, crimson robes flowing leisurely in the air, as if time itself had stopped. Lithely avoiding Malk's strike, he smirked as he drove his heel into Malik's chest; the lingering essence of eternity perpetuating the moment.

As if the natural ticking, tempo of time had been resumed, Bakura hovered but an instant more before quickly lifting his foot to kick Malik's cheek, knocking him down the steps.

Bakura raced away, triumphant.

But then again,

When was the King of Thieves not?

Malik propped himself up on an elbow; growling wrathfully as he watched Bakura and his vagrant band of thieves make their escape.

He cursed under his breath, but for some reason, the thief's hatred had struck something; struck a chord that yet echoed forlornly within him.

Title set aside, he wasn't a thief. He was cunning; too cunning. He was focused; too focused. No, he had something in store for them; and it wasn't just the Pharaoh's death. Oh no, because Malik would perpetrate that himself.

Suddenly, his nose twitched.

He sniffed a lush aroma; warm and tangy; as ripe melons.

He glanced to his side.

Sehjaah was crouched upon the steps, near him. She was braced to help him.

"Are you alright?" she asked hospitably. She started anxiously at him, turquoise eyes clouded with concern.

Suddenly, he realized he was bleeding.

A jagged wound slashed across his chest and sloped up to his cheek, as an oblique; trickling blood nonchalantly.

_Bakura's shoe's ornamentations…_

He thought, smiling bitterly.

_How effeminate…_

He turned to glare at her accusingly.

"Get away from me-This is all your fault," he scowled. "I said to stay inside!"

Sehjaah stared at him incredulously. She had done nothing but be cordial since she arrived; and snap at him when he was irrational. She wasn't even part of their parrying, for Inanna's sake! Why, WHY was he being so unreasonable? What had she done to him? Did he mistake her for another?

"What _is _your problem!" she exclaimed angrily.

"I'm next to her," he snarled. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes. She hadn't answered his question.

"And WHY AREN'T YOU INSIDE!" he demanded.

"Don't worry!" she snapped, "I'm going there now!"

With that, she dusted herself and stood, her silver gown swishing at he ankles.

Straightening up, she strode quickly up the stairs, into the Palace, and away from him.

Without glancing back once…

Without hesitation….

Widened lavender eyes watched her leave; glittering in disbelief.


	9. Says who?

"He's in here…" Sehjaah said absentmindedly, leading Priestess Isis into the room.

Amin lay still upon the bed; deathly still.

Sehjaah shivered. The motionless young boy was a chilling sight. His rosy cheeks appeared to have paled to a sickly yellow hue, and his thick, plush hair seemed limp and stringy. Something was just so unsettling about seeing something so innocent as a child be tarnished by the horrors of reality.

Like the haunted carnivals uncle used to speak of….the traveling circuses… With wicked gypsies, that enchanted

"He's out cold…" Priestess Isis observed

"Yes," Sehjahh agreed uncomfortably.

"I'll take him to the healer; it seems as though there is something else odd with him as well," Isis declared, motioning to two servants behind her.

Scooping him up upon a cot, they carried him out the door.

She sighed defeated.

"Let's hope we can catch Bakura and stop this madness!"

"Yes," Sehjahh again agreed uncomfortably. Her eyes still laid upon the bed, emotionless.

Suddenly, a cloth leapt out at her, wrapping round your head. She waved her arms, surprised.

Tearing off the cloth, Sehjaah glowered at Malik.

"Akunadin said to stay in my study; not stare longingly at my bed," he stated bluntly. He smirked, "Though I can't blame your feeble mind…."

"Good night!" she bid hostilely, storming out of the room; slamming the door after her; aware and indifferent to her harsh overreaction. She could not bear his brash disrespect.

* * *

"_Wake up_!" a husky voice yelled.

Groaning, she rolled over to the other side of the bed, burying her head in her pillow.

"shut up…" a muffled grumble responded.

"_What _was that?" he demanded.

"_PLEASE_ shut up…." she mumbled, smirking deeper into her pillow.

He ripped away her covers brutally, causing her to screech and shrivel into a ball. She hid her face beneath her pillow.

"Get up!" he snapped.

"YOU get up!" she countered sullenly.

There was a silence; a cold, dreaded silence. She could feel him, his deathly still figure. An unnerving air seemed to be pulsating from deep within him.

She tensed, and timidly removed the pillow from her face.

"….please?"

He grabbed her arms and cast her off the bed.

"I'm UP! I'm UP! I SWEAR IT! DEAR RA!' she yelped.

Robbed of her dignity, she stood haughtily; dusting herself with vain strokes.

"You're so barbaric, you know that?" she drawled. "Now what is-"

"He's dead," Malik informed her coldly, lavender eyes void of their custom, sinful gleam.

She stiffened; frozen in her grooming. She couldn't believe it.

Instinctively, she was about to question who it was; when she realized she didn't need to…

Of course, death wasn't something _impossible_. It was likely, destined, to befall everyone; one way or the next. Yet she had always regarded it with a foolish sense of invincibility. It was just so, implausible; when she had drunken in the assuring rise and fall of his chest that marked his liveliness.

What happened? What was this awing force, _death_, that could whisk away a blessing as great and majestic as life, in a mere instant?

Finally, she spoke.

"What was wrong with him?" she asked

He motioned for her to follow him.

* * *

Horrendously familiar lumps protruding from beneath the sheet allowed one to identify the object.

He lay unnaturally still upon the cot; not a quake, not a shake, not a tremble.

She made her way to him in an awkward fluidity quite foreign to her. The snowy marbled tiles of the infirmary seemed a blinding white.

Sehjaah's palm hovered above the blanket in hesitation.

"It'd be preferred that he encounters no physical contact, lest more also contract it," a stout nurse announced emotionlessly.

Sehjaah glanced back at Malik. He stood in the entry of the infirmary, eyes misted with an emotion she couldn't quite put a name to.

"What is he infected with?" Sehjaah asked. "When I first reached him, he was merely unconscious!"

"I'm not too sure," the nurse admitted grimly, studying Amin. "But I do know it seems to be a variant of malaria."

_MALARIA! Where on earth did that suddenly pop up from? He was unconscious; and now, he's diseased?_

"Thank you, we'll be leaving now," someone stated, threateningly near her.

Sehjaah subconsciously jolted upwards. She whirled to her side. Where previously, nothing had been, Malik now stood, a bemused smirk dashing across his lips.

The nurse nodded and ushered them out the door.

Upon entering the hall they were greeted by another of Malik's attendants.

He turned to her expectantly.

"Stay in the room," he ordered stubbornly.

Sehjaah filed her nails against her chest.

"Fine," she concurred flaccidly.

"As in you are not to _dare _to leave the margins of my study," he reiterated pointedly. In no waywas hecoming to her rescue, yet againHe was in no mood for an escapade similar to that of the previous night. Besides, he was relied on to keep track of her. What easire way to do so than to have her sentenced to her room? Her, valor, complicated things.

Of course, Malik was no lazy bum.

On the contrary, he was acunning, calculating mastermind. He feared nothing, yet demanded fear and respect from all who surrounded him. Clever and quick witted, his dry sense of humor could be counted on to elevate him socially.He was bold and agressive, and had a manipulativewayof persuasion thatnever failed, and almost always could be guarenteed to include something sharp and metallic or his bare hands.

"Alright," she agreed once more, "I won't leave. You can get off my case now,"

The servant's gaze flickered up to Malik, or rather, The High Interrogator. Disrespect was not tolerated within the vicinity of the Palace; an unspoken rule he had been taught first hand. The lengthy lesson involved a sort of crop…

Sehjaah, too, realized this, and quickly tramped away from the infirmary, before more could be said or, rather painfully, done.

* * *

Yawning, Sehjaah drowsily flicked through the creased, papyrus parchment before her. She groaned and glared at the ceiling.

She would never crack that cryptex. She had just spent the entire morning and noon in the royal library, to no avail.

"I hear she's a fine entertainer as well," an authoritative voice rang a few bookshelves away. Sehjaah raised her headandeyed them suspiciously.

For the last few weeks, she had heard quite a bit about this "she" person.

_Who? _

"Well, she's a Spartan, is she not?" The second man chuckled.

_WHO? WHO has everyone been blabbering about! _

"Yes. We haven't had new Grecian blood in these halls for awhile now. Say, hadn't we received a new girl a few days before?"

Sehjaah rolled her eyes and slipped out of her chair, stealing away to the front of the library.

'_bout time for a break…_

She walked smoothly down the hall.

_I think I'll scout around for a little more about this "new, young, Grecian" I've heard so annoyingly much about…………_

"Where am I supposed to be then?" someone's voice rang out in the hall.

Sehjaah stopped, frozen in her tracks, and squinted.

_There isn't supposed to be anyone around at this time…A court counsel was being held…And whose voice was that anyways?_

"Well, we gotta introduce you to the Guild, first!" someone else declared cheerily.

_Definitely Mana._

"Guild?"

"Yeah! The Sorcerer's Guild! You'll get to meet everyone!"

Sehjaah rounded the corner.

"SEHJAAH! Hiii there!" Mana greeted happily.

Sehjaah waved, laughing, "Hey!"

She glanced at the other person; a girl.

Sparkling amber eyes were framed by fringes of dark eyelashes, contrasting starkly with her skin. She had a fair creamy complexion, smooth as porcelain, with thin, sleek lips. Gathered into a round bun at the top of her head was a knot of wavy, butterscotch tresses; and the rest of her long hair draping behind her shoulders. She was a tall, slender girl; her tunic fitting loosely around her.

She was pretty; very pretty indeed, but in a rather _classic_, sense.

Sehjaah smiled.

"I'm Sehjaah. Pleased to meet you," she extended her arm.

The girl smiled as well, and took her hand, shaking it firmly.

Sehjaah inhaled sharply. She hadn't expected such a burly grip.

"Rochelle; pleased to meet you as well,"

Mana beamed at their aquaintence.

"Sehjaah here is a _scholar_," Mana mocked. "She plans to make it into the Pharaoh's royal court, just like us! But I want to be in the magician part…."

Sehjaah cocked her head to the side.

_Us…..?_

"I too, am a magician," Rochelle stated.

"Wow! Will you be studying under Mahad?" Sehjaah inquired.

Rochelle shrugged good-naturedly, "Apparently, I need to meet the 'Sorcerer's Guild' before anything"

Mana nodded enthusiastically.

"Sehjaah; would you like to--"

"SEHJAAH, will be coming with me," a gruff voice barked irritably.

The three girls whirled around.

Mana glared defiantly.

Sehjaah blinked bewilderedly.

_How on earth did he find out?_

Rochelle gasped, impressed.

Malik stood towering before Sehjaah.

"I believe we had an accord," he hissed belligerently.

"I refuse to acquiesce to that request," she snapped indignantly.

Malik chuckled darkly.

"Well, then you should have told me before, so I could have dealt with you then…"

Sehjaah stared silently at him, unsure how to answer.

"_Whatever_, Malik, she's coming with us to the _guild_!" Mana rebelled childishly.

He turned to face her, narrowing his eyes.

"She has no business with you there."

"Well she has no business with YOU eit--"

"No, let her go," Rochelle said,restraining an angering Mana. "He has his reasons,"

Mana gasped at her, horrified. Sehjaah looked a her incredulously. They exchanged dumbfounded glances.

Malik studied her.

_The Spartan…._

"At least ONE of the females of the court will have brains, now," he remarked wryly, smirking at Mana. "Even with all your bitty magic, you could never acquire one of

Sehjaah glared at him, "You flunked etiquette, didn't you?"

"Heh,my manners arereserved for _people_," he remarked snidely. "Now, hurry up."

He turned around and strode down the hall, cape fluttering after him.

Sehjaah glanced apologetically at the girls and turned to glower viciously at Malik's back, stomping off after him. Only Mana managed to catch the knowing glint in certain amber eyes.

* * *

"You don't seem to be aware of the consequences around here," he said coldly.

"I wasn't _aware _you had any right to tell me what I can and cannot do," she replied.

"I do, and you would do well to obey," he stated irritably.

"Says wh--"

"_SAYS _the Pharaoh; and you very well can't deny me or him, now can you?"

"The Pharaoh also said that I needed to solve the cryptex, and to do that--"

"You can use my study," finished Malik.

Sehjaah glared up at him, he smirked down at her in response. She absolutley abhorred their difference in height; it made him seem so much more profound; and she; weaker.

"Actually, Malik, I insist she goes," someone spoke.

Sehjaah beamed.

_Shimon!_

"I was the one who assigned her the crptex, and, with all due respect, I believe she has very well more than earned the right to roam freely around the Palace. By recommendation from her teachers, she is already gifted with cunning and strategy; not to mention an amiable personality. Just a fortnight before she displayed courage as well, in trying t save _you_, if memory serves."

Waving, the elderly man waddled away.

Sehjaah leered at Malik.

He snarled.


	10. Points of Authority

Sehjaah stalked off down the hall. She simply could not STAND openly licentious women. It was rather vexing.

_Darn cryptex. _

"Sehjaah!" A someone bellowed huskily.

Sehjaah was too deep in thought to hear them.

"SEHJAAH!"

_How the heck am I going to crack that stupid cryptex! _

"MISERABLE EXCUSE OF A SCHOLAR! TURN AND FACE ME, LEST I BE FORCED TO MAKE YOU!"

For some reason this snagged her attention. Maybe because the person hollered it.

She spun around.

High Priest Seto stood glaring at her, his arms folded across his chest.

"I happen to know you're feeble-minded, but are you hard of hearing as well?"

_Ohhh, you picked the wrong day to tick me off. _

She frowned at him.

"I happen to have _chosen_ to ignore you. And furthermore—"

His eyes flickered with an obscured sentiment before quickly regaining their icy glare.

"Here." He handed her a golden envelope.

She widened her eyes curiously.

"And what's this?"

"The dates of your exams," he stated placidly, quietly studying her.

He quickly salvaged his natural air of superiority. "Be punctual. It—"

"I always am," she interrupted stonily.

His lips bowed into a snarl.

"And, for some reason unbeknownst to myself, you were requested to attend a court assembly tomorrow,"

She smirked.

"Are you sure it's so unbeknownst?"

"Just be there," he snapped, walking past her.

Sehjaah blinked.

_Is it his time of month? _

She laughed to herself.

_Reminds of a colder version of Ninazu. OMG! _

Suddenly, she realized Seto never told her where to head to for the conference. She glanced down the hall but it she was too late. Seto had disappeared.

_He's got the same twisted sense of humor as Akunadin._ She thought mournfully.

Sehjaah lapsed into her seat, exhausted. She had dashed all around the Palace before stumbling upon (quite literally) Priest Shada, who kindly revealed the meeting's location.

It was held in such an aired room it was nearly outside. Large, octagonal windows lined the sides of the wall, as colorful beads of flora were strung from the ceiling and posed in the room's corners. It was rather exotic for a meeting room.

It resembled an indoor amphitheater, in a sense, with seats arranged in a staircase manner; each row a step below the last, with long tables to write on.

She stretched her arms before bending down to reach for her satchel. Sehjaah fished out a parchment and a plume, and straightened up in her seat.

She smirked. She'd come prepared. Seto couldn't say a darn thing now.

"What are _YOU_ doing here?" someone demanded harshly.

She contracted her eyes spitefully.

"I should be asking you the same question."

Malik stood towering before her, accompanied by Mahad and Karim, who were debating heatedly behind him.

He leaned down onto the desk.

"But you're not in that position now are you?" he countered icily.

She turned her head away, appalled.

"_Obviously_, I was invited," she voiced emotionlessly.

"And you chide _me_ for etiquette?" he scoffed. Malik clamped a hand roughly onto her shoulder, the pressure forcing her to face him. He smirked.

"I suggest you polish up what manners you have," he drew back his hand. "It would do you well."

She snarled and turned to face the front.

Malik took his seat.

Sehjaah raised her head from the desk, wearily.

_DEAD. BORING. _

The only thing the famed congregation had been so far was tedious lecture after lecture. Occasionally, she jotted notes and asked intellectual questions, where questions could be asked.

Priest Seto had personally taken it upon himself to treat anyone fool enough to dare bother voicing an obtuse query one of his signature glares of condescension at it's fiercest. Needless to say, it silenced many would be annoyances.

She doodled absentmindedly in the corner of her parchment.

_doodle, doodle, doodle… _

Something whirred by her ear. She idly glanced to her left.

_Mmmmm? _

Sehjaah figured it to be the wind. She resumed sketching her stallion.

This time it scraped her nape. Sehjaah brushed her neck distractedly.

After a few moments of peace, she assured herself the breeze had gathered a few twigs.

She heard muffled laughter behind her.

Before she could turn around, it bonked her playfully on the head.

She whirled around to face the source of her suffering and it clouted her forehead. Sehjaah released an inarticulate gargle of protest.

She caught Seto snarling at her disturbance and irritably returned to her sheet of papyrus.

It hit her again, tousling her deep brown hair.

Her eyebrow ticked tetchily.

_Once more, and so help me I'll- _

It walloped her skull.

She slammed her quill down onto the table.

Sehjaah swiveled around in her seat, glaring upwards.

The "wind" had light blonde hair and piercing violet eyes.

He was slouched leisurely in his chair, arms a few rows behind her, Karim snickering next to him.

She wondered if it was coincidental how the seats in the rows directly behind her were empty; void of anyone.

Before she could bombard him with a fuming torrent of insults, Priest Seto stepped in.

After letting them all know what he thought of them, he turned to Sehjaah.

"You're supposed to try and deem yourself exceptional in the first meeting," he informed her callously. "Not partake in their idiocy."

Malik growled audibly, as an angered Priest Karim tried to restrain him from tackling Seto.

"_'Partake_?' '_PARTAKE_?' Unless you couldn't see, I was the subject, the _victim_, of their torment!" Sehjaah snapped.

Priest Seto narrowed his eyes at her.

"Shall I—"

"Thank you, but you needn't do anything," she answered icily. "I'm sure they'll behave now."

They all stared at her incredulously.

"What makes you so sure?" Priest Karim asked.

She lifted her satchel and turned to glance at him over her shoulder.

"The meeting's over," she replied, before striding down the stairs and out the door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soraya dashed out of the hall to the imperial library.

_Finally out of that tedious assembly! Tiresome harangue after tiresome harangue… _

She snickered to herself. _And as soon as it is adjourned, I run to the library? Hahaha….how much better is that… _

If she wasn't in such an excited hurry to escape to her lavender-eyed problem, among others, she would have halted abruptly to admire the tremendous size of the hall. The vast immensity of bookshelf after bookshelf teeming with papyrus scrolls; their enormous amount mind-numbing itself. She trotted down her specifically chosen avenue, with towering fortresses of bookshelves parading as hedges.

Sehjaah drew one scroll out after the other, briskly skimming through a few words before hastily returning it with an dissatisfied groan or mutter. Irritated, she leaned back against the bookshelf, which ominously dipped backwards, threatening to fall. She shrieked and leapt off, glancing at it petrified as it wavered slowly to a stable standstill. As Sehjaah sighed in relief, a scroll toppled down and its wooden knob battered her head. She cried out and rubbed her head. A menacing snicker broke out from behind the shelf. Grasping the scroll tightly, she darted to the next row, scanning the aisle, and turned back upon finding nothing. Grumbling she opened the scroll, then beamed upon its contents. She ran out of her corridor, elated.

_OMIGOSH! THIS IS IT! I have to read this I'll finally be able to help At-- _

She slammed into something hard and fell onto the ground.

_"_Quite the klutz, aren't you?" someone murmured huskily. She found herself at someone's feet; with a cape hanging to the midst of his ankles. Shrewd lavender eyes silently taunted her. He extended a tanned arm out to her, proposing to help her stand. Smacking it lightly away, she mumbled, "I can help myself up, thank you."

He seized her shoulders and roughly jerked her up, paying her n heed.

"Have you any respect for those around you?" she hissed, furious.

"Why not asked them?" he replied, bemused.

She sighed.

"Pardon, but I haven't the time for any of your _games_! I need to study this to--"

He slammed her into the nearest bookshelf, glaring. Sehjaah waited anxiously for it to tip backwards. When it didn't, she gaped with sudden realization.

"_You _purposely pulled that shelf backwards that I was leaning on!" she accused.

"Your catching on…" he mused.

"Tell me what you came here for and get it done with, because I haven't the time to waste with riff raff like you!" she snapped.

She instantly regretted speaking sharply when she saw him narrow his eyes.

To her surprise, he stepped away from her, and turns to gaze at the door.

"Gorgeous day for the gardens." He said nonchalantly. "Shall we?"

Sehjaah sneered in return, seizing the moment for her sharp wit.

"I'll simplify the response to your idiotic level: NO!"

His lavender eyes darkened ominously as he turned to her, glaring, "You are mistaken; I didn't invite you; I ordered you."

She folded her arms across her chest.

"Why in the name of all that is righteous would I ever obey you?" she inquired sarcastically.

Malik leaned closer to her, smirking devilishly, as Sehjaah shrank away.

"Because you value your wretched excuse of an existence," he whispered threateningly.

Unable to think of a further demeaning insult, she rolled her eyes and followed him out of the library.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Malik, Sehjaah!" someone called.

Sehjaah turned around to face the voice.

" Isis…." Malik muttered somewhat irritated, still facing the exit.

Sehjaah, on the other hand, was grateful for the interruption. She was not, in any way, looking forward to spending time alone with…with a…sadist seems too gentle…a MALIK.

She waved.

"Priestess Isis! Priest Mahado! What a pleasure to run into you!" she spoke warmly. Being still relatively new, it was courtesy she address them by their formal titles.

They approached Sehjaah and stood sophisticatedly before her.

"We were wondering what became of you after the meeting! You both disappeared!" Isis said, smiling.

Sehjaah turned to Malik.

_Both of us, eh? That's interesting…I needed a book. So what was **he** up to? Like I don't know… _

Malik turned around to "greet" them, countenance void of feeling.

"I had an urgent matter to attend to." He said gruffly.

"As did I." Sehjaah added.

"Oh, it's relieving to finally witness you and Sehjaah acting amiably in midst the other's company."

Malik smirked.

"Yes, quite; in fact, we were just heading to the gardens to discuss something, weren't we?" he asked, sneering at Isis' ignorance. He spun toward Sehjaah, who widened her eyes.

"Yes! The gardens! Just going down!" she pronounced cheerily, lengthening Malik's smirk.

Mahado and Isis exchanged glances briefly and laughed.

"Malik, I never thought you one for botany!" Mahado exclaimed.

"Funny, neither did I…" muttered Sehjaah under her breath, glowering at him.

Hearing her Malik slid his arm behind her and pinched her elbow, causing her to squirm.

"I merely wished to clear my head." He answered calmly.

Sehjaah nodded rigorously, vouching his feigned innocence, eager to regain control of her elbow.

"The gardens are most soothing." Isis agreed. "Well, do not let us delay you! Enjoy yourselves!"

Mahado nodded curtly in farewell and Isis waved as they turned back and strode quickly down the hall; immersed in conversation.

Still gripping her elbow, Malik quickly slashed through contrived geniality and wrenched her to him.

"Do not **_dare _**to contradict me before anyone!" he growled fiercely, bright eyes flaring with anger.

She jerked her arm out of his grasp defiantly.

"Who are _you _to tell me what I can and cannot do? I'll say what I please before whomever I choose!" she hissed indignantly. Suddenly, she became aware of how near to the column she was, with Malik looming over her.

He roughly twisted her arm painfully. Sehjaah collapsed onto the ground in anguish, trying to tug her arm away.

"Care to repeat that?" he asked, smiling cruelly.

She kicked him harshly behind his knees in a futile attempt to bring him to the ground. Malik stood unflinching. He twisted her arm forcibly harder, bending it back. She cried out, agonized, and repetitively kicked his shin as she pulled her arm frantically. A burning sensation nipped the corners of her eyes.

"That doesn't seem to be working now, does it?" he stated critically.

He pressed her firmly into the column, sharp marble ridges digging into her back. Yelping, she tried desperately to wrench her arm away.

"Let this be a…_lesson…_for a scholar" he murmured poisonously.

After a ruthless while of excruciating pain, he threw her arm back at her, carelessly. She cradled her sore limb and continued to kick him severely as he stood resolute.

"Get up! We need to go to the gardens!" he said impatiently, watching her struggle to stand.

Malik extended his hand before her, offering assistance. Sehjaah slapped his hand furiously away before giving him one final kick.

"_You_ need to go! _I'm_ going back to the library!" she whispered angrily.

He sighed crossly.

"Look, there will be plenty of time to bea nerd later! For now, there is something of greater importance!"

"No, I've had enough! I'm leaving!" she declared fiercely, and stomped off toward the library; heedless to any imply of his.

Something foreign glimmered briefly in his amethyst eyes before quickly being replaced with the usual fury.

Malik muttered something inaudible_. Her blind, defiant, courage is amusing….and stupid; among other things._

"What!" she demanded, not bothering to face him.

"Your anger seems to be getting the best of what little sense you had…Do you truly will me to "make you" follow? I am the High Interrogator, I personally have ordered and overseen every inquisition, torture, and execution served to anyone in the past half a decade. I will be more than joyous to ensure your joining of me by coercion. However, after your witnessing, er, enduring of that little display, I'm not entirely sure you _sincerely_ want me exploit force upon you; am I correct?" he asserted coolly, leaning against a column.

"Giving me a choice? My, my, to what do I owe this generosity, Malik?" Sehjaah scoffed.

Noticing his eyes narrow, she quickly added, "But I have acquired a sudden urge for the gardens…"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Without a glance, Sehjaah and Malik continued toward the gardens.

They strolled silently down a stone path; without a look, without a word, without a care.

Every slight clatter in the garden seemed an unbearable racket to Sehjaah, a deafening hush. The melodious twitter of birds were shrill shrieks, the soft drone of insects was a frustrating buzz, and the gentle breeze rustling through leaves was a pounding cataract. The sun itself seemed to glower with vulgar, blinding ashen glow.

Her heart pounded thunderously within her; it's timed beat petrifying her.

She was alone with him.

HIM.

Unable to further bear the torturous stillness, Sehjaah spoke up.

"Did you want something in particular….?" She started unsurley.

He paused, and looked at her emotionlessly, before continuing down the path.

Sehjaah swiftly swelled with old infuriation.

"The least you can do is answer!" she shrieked, aggravated.

He turned around once more and stood staring thoughtfully at her.

"Take a picture, why don't you? It'll last longer!" she snapped.

Suddenly, he seized her and dropped her in a fountain. The water's icy caress swiftly seeped through her clothes as she raised herself on her hands. She gasped in disbelief; mouth gaping, as her thick, russet hair dangled limply from her ponytail

"Snippy, aren't we?" he asked her casually.

She stared at Malik incredulously.

He shrugged.

"You looked like you needed to cool off." He stated simply.

She screeched inwardly.

This time, he didn't wait for her consent. Snatching her off the fountain, he set her upright, and walked down the path.

She folded her arms across her chest and stood glaring at her soaked gown, streams of water trickling down her cheek.

_Oh great…it's wet…and three guesses to what happens to the wearer when silk gets wet? _

"Where are you going? I can't possibly walk around in this!" Sehjaah howled at Malik.

"So go change…" he said blandly, still striding down the trail.

"You said we_had_ to go to the gardens..." Sehjaah trailed off.

"And were here." He added intolerantly.

"You said it was _IMPORTANT_," she said crossly.

"Oh; _that_!That doesn't concern you," he replied carelessly over his shoulder.

She stood glaring at him in disbelief.

"YOUR INSUFFERABLE!" she screamed and stalked off toward the palace, missing the devious smirk that played upon his lips as he watched her leave.

Sehjaah muttered incoherently as she dashed through the palace, wishing her quarters were nearer.

"If only I could retract whatever fault I possibly could have committed toward him…He's always doing this to me! Always! Why doesn't he go pick on that strumpet of a—"

"Sehjaah?" Someone asked in amazement.

Sehjaah's head snapped up.

"What happened to you?" Rochelle queried, bemused.

"Erk—long story…" Sehjaah answered unwillingly as she reached her door.

_Of all people… _

She laughed.

"You do know what you look like, don't you? Or are you simply foolish?"

Suddenly, a thought struck her. Just as she was about to open her door, she turned to Rochelle, sneering.

"Hey Rochelle! Your friends with Malik, right?" Sehjaah called out.

She stared at Sehjaah from over her shoulder.

"Yes…", Rochelle replied slowly, unsure where the conversation would head.

"Ask him what happened. He'll tell you! _Much_ better than I can! He rather _enjoyed _it, after all," Sehjaah finished, smirking, before triumphantly striding in her room.

Rochelle took one more glance at Sehjaah's dress, added the last comment to her contemplation, and dropped the glass she was drinking, flabbergasted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A dangerously livid Malik stormed into her room.

Sehjaah turned to him curiously.

"How did you get a key to my room ? You can come in here whenever you want through the adjoining door—that's bad enough!"

"WHAT DID YOU TELL ROCHELLE?" he roared, ignoring her.

"Exactly what you wanted me to," Sehjaah stated calmly, returning to her book. She fought to suppress the smirk that was threatening to curl the fringes of her lips.

He strode to her desk and snatched her book, flinging it against the farthest wall. Sehjaah's eyes shrank to slits.

"DON'T LIE TO ME! She ran in though a courtroom nearly everyone had been residing in, loudly asking me WHAT I HAD DONE TO MAKE YOUR DISHEVELED DRESS SOPPING WET! You can very well imagine the response to that! The entire room turned to stare! WHAT DID YOU SAY?" he shouted.

She sighed condescendingly.

"Do you recall an incident that occurred previously today in which I provoked you into warning me not to 'contradict you before anyone'?" she began lethargically.

"WHAT OF IT?" he bellowed loudly.

"She wished to know how I had come to the, er, "sopping wet" state she had viewed me in, and I was about to voice the events of the day when I remembered your instructions—I was strictly not to contradict you, under any given circumstances. Well, in fearing I might actually _do_ something of such", she placed her palm dramatically over her heart, "I resolved the matter by telling her to ask you. And I see she listened!" Sehjaah smiled at the end and rose from her chair to fetch her abused volume.

Malik pushed her back down in the chair.

"Do you find this amusing?" he hissed forebodingly.

"Your instructions, your humiliation, or simply you?"

He dug his nails into her right arm; the arm he had earlier twisted. She screamed and struggled in the chair but he forced her still.

"You still take this lightly, don't you?" he asked viciously. "DON'T YOU?"

She hurled her knee into his stomach. Malik grimaced in pain and clutched his side. Using the distraction, she leapt to her feet and was about to sprint to the door when he tightly latched onto her wrist and threw her across the room.

She slammed into the wall with a nauseating thud and dropped to her knees limply. Groaning, she glanced up, horrified to see Malik standing over her. He crouched down before her and, grabbing her chin, forced her to look into his burning lavender eyes.

"A girl your age should act more _mature_...more _weary _of her consequences", he murmured poisonously.

Suddenly, he grabbed the collar of her dress and yanked her toward him. His lips crushed hers, taking her aback.

She struggled fruitlessly to cling to consciousness before her surroundings suddenly dove into black.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was enveloped by something soft, and warm; but something was not right.

Moaning, Sehjaah's eyes flickered open. She found she was tucked neatly in a bed; her bed, with the covers up to her neck. A cold, clammy object perched on her head. Shaking her head frantically, the item, a cooled cloth, slid down the side of her face.

"Finally awake…" a malicious voice filled the room.

Sehjaah froze. Terrified of what was to come, she turned her head slowly to the source of the sound. Staring back at her from her chair were two vivid, lavender eyes.

"You were out for quite some time," he continued. "It is now some hour in the dead of the night."

Her heart started pounding.

"Night?" Sehjaah exclaimed.

"_Yes_, the night," he said irritably. "Must I restate everything?"

"I had something important to do….," she said faintly, examining the tight bandages on her right arm, baffled.

_Who could have…? My arm seems to have been wrapped professionally... He wouldn't dare tell anyone what he did; would he?_

Malik stood and made his way toward her.

"You would have had time if your actions were better calculated."

She inched away,

glaring at the wall next to her.

She felt something stroke her hair.

She tensed, glancing at him.

He ran a hand through her thick, russet curls, twining his finger the coils of her hair. He twirled it delicatley, mesmerized.

Sehjaah jerked away from him.

"They were perfectly calculated," she spat.

Snarling. he wrenched his hand back and turned toward the door that connected his room with hers.

"Wait!" she murmured.

He turned to look at her.

"Thank Isis for me…" she croaked.

His brow furrowed in incomprehension.

"What for?"

"For the healing. The bandages ease the pain, and the cloth was very; refreshing."

He narrowed his eyes.

"I treated you," Malik said coldly.

Sehjaah couldn't bring herself to look at him.

An unbearable silence settled between them, throttling Sehjaah. He turned away from her and directed his anger at the wall. She coughed as her gaze darted from one bookshelf to the next. With that, he left to his room through the adjoining door, cape waving behind him.

With much effort, Sehjaah lifted herself off the bed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She never imagined his room to be so spacious and exquisitely furnished.

"Malik", she called quietly,

He had been lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He lifted his head in shock.

"I never thanked you…" she stammered grudgingly, "for, the treatment and all…"

"So….thanks…" she quickly turned and slipped out of his room, aware of the astonished lavender eyes following her out.

_Curse the forces that compelled my mother to teach me to breathe by manners… _

Sehjaah thought bitterly


	11. Lavendar Eyed Problem

A lark's warbling symphony announced daylight's bright entrance.

Roused from her slumber, Sehjaah's eyes flickered slowly open.

She stiffened, listening intently.

Yes, Malik had left his room.

She quickly changed and slipped out of the room, eager to speak to Mana. It was about midmorning.

_They'll all probably be in the Dining Hall_. She surmised.

Upon reaching the refectory, she discovered the enormous room to be empty. Her heartbeat hastened apprehensively; worrying she was too late. She padded smoothly into the hall, her every tense step reverberating off the adorned stone floor and walls. Sehjaah loathed how loudly her gait sounded, it alerted the world to her location. She felt too exposed; too vulnerable.

Abruptly she heard hushed, burbling chanting.

She knit her brow in puzzlement.

_That was unexpected…_

The shrill twittering fell softly before rising once more to a new height; followed by pleased giggling.

Sehjaah's lips curled into a revolted grimace. Suddenly, she laughed bitterly to herself. It couldn't have been Rochelle; she would be too preoccupied batting her eyes flirtatiously at the men of the Palace. She strode to a wall, where the tune seemed to be originating from.

Just as she placed her weight against the stone, she fell through onto a dark stairwell. Behind her, soething slammed shut.

_! A revolving door!_

The mirthful caroling hadn't ceased.

Hurriedly, she picked herself from the steps and stared down. At the end of the dark, curving staircase, there seemed to be a dim light, scarcely illuming the stairwell, but enough for Sehjaah to creep down the steps.

She peered curiously from around the wall.

The room appeared to be a scullery. Strangely enough, flouncing pots and pants glided animatedly around the room, among other culinary utensils and dish rags. Amidst all the pandemonium stood a focused Mana; each sharp strike of her wand conducting the objects' every lively gesture.

She's enchanting a kitchen? That's Mana for you… Why is a scullery treated so secretively though?

Sehjaah wandered inquisitively into the room.

"Morning Mana," she greeted cheerfully. "Where is everyone?"

Without stopping her incantation, she turned to grin at Sehjaah.

"Morning yourself, sleepyhead! They're all of to attend to their "duties"" she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, and sorry about breakfast; you kind of missed it, so…..Anyways, I could always conjure something up for you!" she rubbed her hands together devilishly.

Sehjaah smiled graciously in return.

"That's fine. I'm not too famished anyhow," she fibbed. She wasn't to keen on being the fortunate first to experiment with Mana's witchcraft.

_Is magically charmed food even edible?_

Mana pouted.

"Awww, come on! I'm nearly an elite spellcas—"

"Speaking of spell casters," Sehjaah interrupted, "where is Rochelle?"

Mana frowned, turning back to her hex.

"Just be on the look out for a crowd of men!" she grumbled, head bowed.

Sehjaah smirked.

"Awwww, jealous much?"

Mana spun to face her angrily, "She can be so strumpet-like it's uncanny!" She folded her arms across her chest, sulking.

"And it's not like you aren't!" she shrieked.

Sehjaah laughed, "But I'm not! I just plain old hate her for being slutty! I hate all slutty girls!"

"Some say she's confident," Mana muttered.

"I'd say it's more like presumptuous! Besides, it's not like she's draping herself over anyone important!" Sehjaah countered, turning to the stair. Suddenly she stiffened.

"Riiiiiiiggggghtttt?"

"….."

"MANA!"

"WHAT!" Mana screeched. "IJUSTLOVEHOWHE'SSOMYSTERIOUSANDBROODINGANDPOWERFULNOTOTMENTIONINCREDIBLYSEXY!"

Sehjaah blinked than smirked.

"Mana and Mahad, cute as can be,"

"Whaa-a--? Sehjaah! No!"

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"SEHJAAH!"

"They wanna fall in love,"

"STOP IT!"

"But they're too shy and need a shove,"

"STOPITTHISINSTANT!"

"So Sehjaah steps in and casts a hex"

"DON'T YOU DARE!"

"Forcing them to partake in---"

"SAYITANDISWEARI'LL—"

"Calm down!" Sehjaah snapped, doubled over in laughter. "I'll cast a spell instead."

"SEHJAAH!" Mana screeched resentfully.

"FINE! FINE! DEAR RA!"

Mana huffed, not quite appeased.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're late," someone announced coldly.

Her heart dropped.

She whirled around.

Priest Seto stood, tapping his foot in annoyance.

"What happened to 'I'm never late'?" he sneered.

Her eyes widened in horror as realization took her by full force.

Lifting her palms to her lips, she covered her mouth in a sharp gasp.

Suddenly, His sapphire eyes darkened.

"Oh my God! Priest Seto, I--"

Abruptly, he grabbed her arm and wrenched her toward him; shoving her sleeve up her arm.

His eyes shimmered in disbelief.

Mana drew a harsh breath.

He turned to glare at her.

"Well?"

Her head pounded frantically; cheeks stinging with unjustified shame.

_My sleeve must have slipped! He saw!_

"I-I sprained my arm," she stammered bitterly.

"How?" he demanded skeptically.

"I-it's n-nothing," she mumbled, aware of her quivering voice.

"Nothing?"

He ran two fingers up the length of her arm, causing her to flinch sharply and tug fruitlessly at her arm. Seto's grip was too firm.

Sehjaah narrowed her eyes in irritation. _Why are all men I meet like this?_

He released her, folding his arms across hs chest; waiting...

Mana stared at Sehjaah, horrified.

"What happened?"

She cringed.

"I--"

"Who did it?" Seto asked stonily.

"No one," she asserted firmly.

He tapered his eyes to slits.

"May I remind you of your oath as a member of the court," he hissed poisonously.

"I'm not one! I missed my exams!" she cried hotly; unsure if that was a compliment or a reprimand.

Someone laughed piercingly.

"Oh! THAT!"

Rochelle waved her hand nonchalantly.

"Don't worry about that, Seto. Sehjaah, here can be a dunce, at times."

Vindication quickly coursed through Sehjaah's throbbing limbs, bowing her lips into a spiteful snarl. Rochelle's indifference for dignity baffled her.

Rochelle glided to the priest, smiling knowingly at him.

Seto studied Sehjaah sternly, barely satisfied.

"Honestly, it's happened more than once; she'll be fine," Rochelle assured him bewitchingly. "Besides, you'll be late for your meeting as well," reminded him smoothly.

This caught his attention. He glowered at Sehjaah, "Go to Shimon. I was supposed to give you the exams; but you were tardy. If you're in luck, he might be able give them to you-- otherwise pack up."

He strode down the hall, with Rochelle smirking over her shoulder.

"Bye friends!" she crooned.

Mana waved out of courtesy; going to rant as soon as Rochelle was out of earshot. But it all slipped through her ears. She could be kicked out.

And soon.

All because of that blonde-haired, lavender-eyed embodiment of hell.


	12. Relics of a Kiss

Hey I'm REALLY REALLY sorry for not updating in such a long time but I was out of town! Usually I'd be much quicker! Sorry for the inconvenience!

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She paced the hallway nervously; anxiously waiting for Shimon to exit the room with the results.

How on earth was I supposed to do well? After that, "incident" with Malik, Seto teling me I'm about to be kicked out, IS THAT HIS IDEA OF A PEP TALK! It's not like I even had A chance! The infidel ruined my writing arm; so I don't even have neatness to support me. I have NOTHING going for me. Absolutely nothing. I'll get that son of a we-

"Are you really in a state to be so joyous?" someone uttered sarcastically.

She turned around grudgingly. There in all his shimmering, Egyptian-gold splendor, stood none other than Priest Seto himself.

"Priest Seto…" she announced mechanically. Trying to smile cordially, she lifted her cheeks, but in the state she was, with despondency looming ominously as a storm cloud over her, she grimaced.

"Come to be the bearer of bad news?"

"Yes," he answered apathetically.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

His lips coiled into his trademark smirk of pompous triumph.

"Congratulations," he bid.

Her eyes remained closed as she cringed warily, bracing herself for the ill-tidings.

"I'm not Malik," he reminded her in a firm whisper.

She snapped her eyes open; heart throbbing.

"WHAT!"

But Seto stood, as indifferent as always, arms crossed before his chest.

"What?" she demanded again

He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I said congratulations; and I was right, you are deaf. Your scores were second only to mine," Seto informed her casually.

Her flooding, delirious mirth quickly dismissed his taciturn sentiments. It was now Sehjaah's turn to smirk.

"Were they now?"

He laughed coldly, "Don't get too excited; you have yet to crack that cryptex!"

Sehjaah thinned her eyes spitefully, "And how would you know my progress on that?"

He shot her an impossibly skeptic look.

"At any rate; you did manage to somehow, someway, by some means—"

"Oh just admit I was 'exceptional' already!" Sehjaah countered good-naturedly.

Seto snorted in ridicule.

"Hn."

"COME ON!"

"You were…good,"

Sehjaah rolled her eyes, knowing that was all she would get from him.

"Right; well I need to go see someone. I need to remind them of something… Ciao," she called coolly.

His eyes darkened.

Don't think they were forgotten…Mana and I saw them in stark daylight….

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"You there!" A vexed shout rang out into the court.

Quirking an eyebrow in slightly puzzled annoyance, he glanced behind his shoulder.

Sejaah strode to him briskly, jade gown fluttering at her feet. He couldn't help but smirk knowingly at the long sleeves she wore despite the humid weather. Only he knew why. Another fabulous display of his indisputable authority.

He widened his eyes in mock astonishment.

_ME? _

Tilting her head down, she narrowed her eyes; tapered so they became almost serpentine in nature. Indignation glittered wrathfully deep within those turquoise gems; burning fervidly with sheer, impeccable hatred; tarnished not by any speck of compassion.

"Yes, you!" she hissed impatiently.

She broke her swift tread to halt before him, a hand poised elegantly upon a hip.

Throwing his head back, he chortled huskily, taunting her "gallantry". He grinned viciously, an foreboding glint in his eyes.

"So you have a bone to pick with me; is that it?" he scorned.

Her lips parted, bearing her teeth in frustration. In a raging fit of fury she angrily swiped her palm at him. He caught her wrist inches from his face. Gripping her firmly, he sneered. What did she honestly think she could do?

She snarled at her vulnerability. After pulling at her wrist with no avail, she glared at him.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I almost was expelled from the court, by your courtesy!" she snapped.

"And why would I care?" he asked dully.

She narrowed her eyes.

"YOU DON'T," she reminded him flatly.

He turned his back to her.

"Right then. I'll be leav--"

"NO, you won't be!" she yelled. "It was because of you I woke late, missed my tests, and almost got debarred!" she interrupted hotly.

He turned to his shoulder, glaring dangerously at her from an angle.

"What was that?" he growled darkly.

She instantly became conscious of the ominously hinting tone of malice, laced deep within the enticing intoxications of his throaty voice.

Involuntarily, she stepped back, eyes widening. On cue, her right arm began throbbing, horrid twinges of pain pounding in unison with memories of yesterday's…._incident_…. She cringed, shoulder jerking harshly.

_NO NO NO! You have a point to make! Stay there! _

Mustering her strength, she inhaled sharply and softly breathed out, dismissing the excruciating agony; the putrid product of his murderous whim, of which she had the fortune of so torturously befalling.

She wasn't giving him a name. He would kill the one person who wasn't incredibly cryptic and shown her even a mere streak of concern.

(Isis was indefinable, Rochelle walked with a glaring, neon 'I'm a prostitute' sign, and Mana was…well Mana was Mana…. Shimon was all right, but he only saw her as a subordinate)

"T-They saw. Even with my…camouflage... They probably think I'm an unstable masochist now!" she spoke quietly, lowering her voice and glancing around her nervously.

"And?" Malik queried irritably.

"And!" she whispered fiercely. "And what! This is entirely _your _fault! I at least, no, I MORE than deserve respect!"

He stepped forward menacingly, his advance bringing him dangerously close to her.

"Didn't we go over this yesterday?" he smirked. "If you had composed yourself…."

Sehjaah felt her limbs twitching to shudder and leap back. Summoning as much courage as she could she stood resolute.

Suddenly, a shrieking bawl shattered the tense silence, followed by a thunderous blow.

Malik released her and strode to the window, Sehjaah at his heels.

An enormous stone tablet was piled atop the burly shoulders of several slaves, arduously struggling below it's weight. Before them, Priest Mahad was pretentiously leading a troop of his sorcerers toward the palace gates, garlanded with various gold insignias, each which symbolized their personal ranks and specialties. He treaded purposefully, back erect and head held high, cape fluttering behind him regally, his many adornments shimmering in the blaze of illumination of the noon sun.

"WAIT!" someone pleaded fruitlessly, screaming. "Take me with you! TAKE ME WITH YOU!"

"Mana…?" Sehjaah breathed.

"The idiot…" Malik muttered, smirking.

"She's not an idiot!" Sehjaah snapped defensively .

He glanced at her listlessly.

"I was talking about Mahad, but sure, Mana could pass…"

Mahad continued forward, not the slightest flinch betraying a tinge of hesitation.

"I've been practicing my spells!" she implored. "Please! I can help! MAHAD!"

Suddenly, there was a thud and a soft groan, and a low murmur.

"HE NEEDS ME!" Mana wailed to the disobliging heavens, whose clouds paid her no heed.

"MAHAD! Please listen! Mahad! MAHAD!"

Sehjaah turned and ran from the window.

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"You underestimate the ability of your teacher, he'll be fine!" Shimon ensured halfheartedly.

"I KNOW!"

Sehjaah tore aside the red curtain.

"Mana!"

She had collapsed into a sobbing mound upon the tiled floor of the balcony. The young mage turned to her, widened teal eyes bleary; unfocused, blurred by her sorrow. Doused in tears, her limpid eyes glistened brightly. Gobbets of the salty brine trickled down the curve of her tawny cheek, bequeathing moist ribbons in their wake. Her chest heaved; shuddering with hysteric sighs of anguish.

"I can help!" she reiterated in vain. "I'm his top student! He'll die! DIE!"

"Mana!" barked Shimon chidingly. "He's an exceptional wizard, and I thank you to show him proper respect!"

She whipped at him, glaring.

"R-respect? R-RESPECT! Will y-your RESPECT save h-him from inevitable d-death?" she wept, words slurred within a frantic screech, releasing her chaotic panic.

"Mana that's enou-!"

"It's always about the looks isn't it!" she shouted, voice escalating threateningly. "ISN'T IT! It doesn't matter how Mahad is faring; doesn't matter how he dies as long as his shroud is drenched with gold! I--"

"MANA! You would do well to--"

"TO LEAVE!" she interrupted furiously.

Mana pushed herself from the floor, quavering with each parched sob for breath. Sehjaah crouched down before her, arms wrapped about the girl in concern. Staggering awkwardly to the right, Mana tore away Sehjaah's grasp before gasping laboriously once more and dashing out of the balcony.

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Two elegantly ornate slippers stepped in front of him, thwarting his path. Mahad glanced up at the obstruction's…._shapely _form. Though he had strutted proudly with feigned valor, though his head had been heightened with assumed daring, he had been acknowledging only the tiles before him the entire time. When observed, yes, he was ever buoyant; relieving them, assuring them, restating their irrefutable safety. They all turned to him for protection. He was the strong one, the powerful one, he Mahad, if he desired, could be the most powerful of the guardians, rivaling the strength of the Pharaoh himself.

_Always playing the role of the gallant knight…_

With each confident smiled plastered across his expression, with each string of pretense, garish as the desert sun, spewed from his lips, his soul lurched with knowing guilt.

_But I need to protect them…it is my duty…my destiny… I'd willingly sacrifice my life for the people of Egypt…_

"Isis…," he murmured faintly, voice frail and delicate as the petals of a lotus.

"Mahad," she named warily. "Please, I-- I don't think--"

She peered at him remorsefully, mouth drawn into a rueful pout.

"You mustn't …"

Realization dawned upon him, striking him harshly. He widened his plum eyes fearfully, before softly shutting them in comprehension.

_So she saw my future…._

Her palm rested upon his arm; a feeble, fruitless effort to offer him comfort.

"Mahad," she whispered knowingly, "You mustn't…"

"I'd prefer not to know," he answered quietly.

He drew away from her and started again down the path.

"Do keep an eye on the Pharaoh..."

"Wait!" she called out, scrabbling at the air in futile desperation.

He stopped, but did not turn around.

"I-in my vision," she began unsteadily. Isis inhaled gently, extracting her composure. "In my vision, you will return; and…"

She glanced at him.

"and have the final victory…"

He stiffened, drawing a sharp breath.

What was he to say to that?

Suddenly, he felt something softly trace his lips.

Priestess Isis stood before him; ribbons of daylight alighting her shimmering cobalt eyes; dark as the midnight sky. The wind swept her raven hair, her tresses dancing enchantingly around her.

"…please…" she entreated piteously. "…please…''

_She's beautiful…_

Never before had she seen her as she was, mysterious, enigmatic Isis. Never before had he witnessed such vividly illustrated emotions seep through her as carelessly as water.

"Thank you…." he breathed quietly, before forcing himself to regain his habitual dignified composure.

Mahad stepped past her indifferently and walked down the path; deaf to her faint sniveling.

He brushed a hand upon the evanescing vestige of her affectionate caress, slowly dying out; submitting to the incontestable omnipotence of time and fate themselves.

Just like himself.


	13. The Agony and The Ecstasy

She tore tumultuously through the halls of the palace, senses an abstract blur. Sehjaah glanced around; Mana's terse, bristly locks nowhere to be found.

Sehjaah!" a husky voice called out, sharply shunting out her thoughts. Her eyes widened and she whirled around, her hair whipping around her. The pharaoh, accompanied by Seto, strode over to her waving, and she immediately lowered her gaze to the ground.

"Sehjaah," he began again. "I have a favor to ask of you."

He gazed at her expectantly.

She nodded.

"Of course. How may I be of assistance?"

Smiling, he waved his hand in annoyance. "Here, walk with me; it'll be faster."

Sehjaah followed obligingly and fell into step with him.

"Well, I'd like to renovate some of the tombs. Completely redo them actually!" he said, laughing.

"Some of the older tombs are in terrible condition, and in desperate need for restoration!"

Sehjaah blinked.

"Alright………….."

"I'm not finished. I'm inviting some of Egypt's most prestigious architects to help redesign the tombs; and seeing as how you have journeyed all over the world, you've obviously been exposed to a cornucopia expertise and culture. I would be very interested to receive what suggestions you have to offer on the matter ."

She turned to him just as they arrived before a horridly weathered temple.

_#$! I need to find Mana!_

He smiled at her, a naively eager glint in his twinkling eyes.

"I'd love to," she answered cheerily.

(OH? Like YOU would have said no? Ahh, you probaby would have. But for the sake of the story; the plot must go on!)

They cautiously entered one of the decrepit tombs, Sehjaah walking hesitantly behind him. Did he not perceive the nearly tangible air of peril percolating from the heart of the shrine? At any rate, however skeptical she was of the structure's stability, clearly something was dragging her along; as she soon found herself lost within the labyrinth passages of the tomb. There was such a calming aura surrounding him, an enchanting serenity shimmering within his violet crystals of eyes. One couldn't help but notice the condescending ambiance of royalty around him; but within the sanctuary of his presence one also sensed an unwavering integrity smothering all who came near.

Sehjaah gasped.

Despite it's windswept nature, she found it hauntingly gorgeous in an abandoned sentiment. Draped in glittering gems, gilded idols littered the corners of the temple. Upon the ceiling and along the walls, worn murals that were once stunning illustrations, crumbled slowly with the passing of the years.

They kicked up dust as they walked, halting in a vast chamber.

She strode to the center of the room, scrutinizing the many minute yet exquisite details that only the child of an architect could hope to appreciate.

"The molding's…unique," she finished.

Seto smirked.

"Great way of saying his ancestors had no taste,"

Sehjaah laughed. Atem scooped up some of dirt of a knoll of filth and threw it at him.

Abruptly, Atem's vibrant eyes widened, "SEJAAH!" he yelled, pointing to something above her.

A loud crack resounded throughout the vicinity of the large hall.

Sehjaah's gaze snapped up to the golden ceiling above her.

Hurtling toward her, an enormous portion of the mural had cracked off of the ceiling. The young girl's eyes swelled in frightening shock of recognition as she wrenched her mouth open into a gape; unable to scream. Before she realized what happened, a strong, golden arm seized her waist and lifted her off the ground; racing her away from the danger. Coughing hoarsely, her raspy breath rushed unevenly in and out of her. Her arms still crossed before her skull as a feeble effort of protecting herself. Trembling, she raised her head, dumbfounded. Sehjaah stared at the collapsed rubble; unable to process how she had been standing precisely beneath it only a few, death-defying moments before.

_I had no idea Atem was so swift_….

"…Thank you…," she breathed; stunned with disbelief. Her muscles still lay tense in Atem's _strangely tight _grip.

_Y'know, I would have never thought the midget pharaoh could be this strong either…_

Glancing up the arm's owner, she was met by a pair of brooding lavender eyes.

Gaping, she nearly choked in astonishment, her surprise quickly melding into bewilderment.

_I think I've suffered enough surprises today….._

Malik casually dropped her to the ground.

"I'm impressed," he sneered. "You remembered my name."

Dusting his caped shoulders, his lips curled into a cruel smirk, "However, I had no idea your obesity could near-level a temple."

She gasped, affronted. Nevertheless, not to be outdone, she turned on him and snarled, "For your information these--"

"MALIK!" a singsong voice called out, vile in its overindulged saccharinity.

Rochelle ran to his side.

"Where did you dash off to so suddenly? I was so worried!" she cooed. Pushing past Sehjaah, she threw herself into his chest.

Malik smirked but patted her back awkwardly .

"Fine, fine…" he murmured soothingly.

Sehjaah snorted in indifference. Brushing her robe, she smiled courteously to the pharaoh and guardian running to her.

She loathed him, Malik, of course, but what she loathed about him most, was how incredibly indecipherable he was. He was so cryptic! His actions were simply unfathomable. HOW WAS SHE SUPPOSED TO REACT TO HIM? He was NEVER straightforward. Rather, he slithered about, motives incessantly obscured by those piercing violet eyes. What did he expect from her? He utterly demolished everything she had ever lived by; her way of life. She never knew what to do in his presence.

Be nice? Hah, he would walk all over her…

Be haughty? He would mortify her…

Be cruel? And question his power? DOUBLE Hah! They'd find her in a box the next day…

Why? WHY? She had don NOTHING to him--

_Wait. That's it… I never got revenge for all he's put me through! I need to do something! I like the way the guillotine's starting to sound…. :D_

"Are you alright?" the Pharaoh inquired warmly as he draped an arm around her shoulder.

_Why can't I figure him out? He's no encryption…or is he? _

She smirked at the platinum blonde enigma trying to ease the wailing girl in his arms. He glanced at her expectantly from the corner of his eye.

_You want thanks from me? HAH! Fat chance…_

She smiled sweetly at Seto.

"I'll be fine, thank you _so _much."

_What better place to decode a code than in Egypt? _

Without another word, Sehjaah deliberately spun on her heel and left the tomb, a leaving shocked, tawny blonde staring after her.

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Something rustled against the enormous porcelain urn near her.

She halted abruptly.

Turning to face the decor, she smirked. Lunging toward it, she thrust her arm into the opening of the vase, snagging a fistful of roan locks.

A shrill yelp echoed within the urn.

"You're bad at hide and seek…." Sehjaah remarked blandly.

"What do you want?" Mana asked morosely.

"To find out where you went," Sehjaah answered happily.

"I'm _incognito_," Mana articulated haughtily.

"Is that anywhere near Cairo?" Sehjaah snickered in ridicule.

"Oh, shut up, you know what it means!" Mana huffed. "I'm hiding until night."

Sehjaah arced an eyebrow.

"You're a werewolf now?"

Mana narrowed her eyes.

"Night is when I plan to make my escape!" She smirked at Sehjaah's gape. "You didn't think I was making light, did you?"

"Where will you go!" Sehjaah whispered.

"I'm following Mahad," she divulged. "I could easily sneak out now, but that would be too soon. It's a three days journey to the cave—I know where he's going, I eavesdropped. I need to give him a headstart."

"You know where it is!"

"Yes, but with his brigade of magicians and giant stone slab, he'll be slowed down. He can't find out I've left till later."

Mana turned to stare at Sehjaah somberly.

"I need to ask you something though…." She began ominously.

_Every time I hear this it turns out awful for me….Look at what happened in the tomb, with Ma—UGH I hate him! Every thought leads to him!_

"Alright……" Sehjaah drawled.

"Will you come?"

Sehjaah's throat tightened. She had just barely passed her exams…. This would be violating several court decrees! But Mana could die in the desert alone… Besides; this was adventurous

"……………"

"…………..."

"Sure."

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Sehjaah hurriedly leafed through her closet, scanning each elegant garment before casting it aside, irritated, her requests apparently insatiable.

She had promised to meet Mana before the sculpture of Geb, God of the Earth, in the gardens of Horus Anedjib the instant the moon stroked the center of the sky.

She raced around the room, tearing through shelves and drawers, desperately looking for her cloak. Sighing, she sat upon her bed and leaned on her arms, her hand momentarily brushing something velvety. She leapt up, hands quickly scrambled along the bed, weaving through the covers, determined to locate her cloak.

"I could've sworn…" she muttered to herself. Suddenly, her grasping fingers stumbled upon the smooth fabric. Snatching it, she quietly opened her door and crept out of her room, oblivious to the fierce, violet eyes silently studying her every move.

Just as she turned to sprint down the hallway, a powerful hand firmly clutched her wrist. She inhaled sharply and struggled to turn around, but he roughly wrenched her toward him. Gasping as she collided with a well-toned chest, she unsuccessfully tried to push herself away, thrashing wildly in his grip.

Merely tightening his hold, he tilted his head down and murmured venomously in her ear, "Having trouble sleeping?"

His scorching breath pricked the back of her neck, making her hair stand on end. Her eyes widened in horror at the familiarity of the voice, laced intricately with its renowned malice. She didn't need to face him to feel his vicious smirk.

_Is he drunk?_

Seething, attempted to raise her leg and knee him, but he was too quick. Slamming her against the wall, he pressed his weight into her, pinning her against the wall. Gleaming violet eyes lowered themselves to meet her gaze.

"Forgetting something?" he purred.

She knew exactly what he meant.

"No" she answered curtly, smirking.

He pushed her harder into the wall. Sehjaah whined in pain.

" Mmmm," he muttered. "You seem to be enjoying Seto lately… Using him as a shield? Hn, you're more pathetic than I thought."

"What I do is none of your concern!" she hissed. "And _I _don't exploit anyone! I can defend myself!"

"Oh can you?"

He tore her cloak open and snatched her arm, revealing the bandages.

She quailed, eyeing the wrapping warily.

"That wasn't-- I--"

He fondled her auburn curls, stroking the side of her cheek.

"If memory serves, it was I who saved you from your inevitable death?" he continued slowly, savoring her uncomfortable squirms.

"After knocking me unconscious!" she snapped.

He ignored her and continued, grinning sinfully, "You still have a debt to repay..."

Her eyes widened.

"What are you insinuating!" she gasped.

He said nothing, chuckling darkly.

Suddenly, she acknowledged translucent quality of her lingerie. She hadn't been anticipating this when she dressed, but with the loss of her cloak….

She glanced up at him apprehensively; that dangerous glint in his eye wasn't appealing to her at all. She found she was trembling.

Suddenly, he jerked her off the wall and began dragging her down the corridor.

? He's taking me to his room!

Sehjaah wrestled chaotically within the margins of his grip, but one harsh yank upon her bandaged arm quickly forced her still.

The door slammed shut.

Sehjaah's head was frantically spinning, countless of hazed distortions of thoughts fleeting nimbly through her mind. Her heart was throbbing incessantly; knees shuddering; she felt unable to support herself. Her stomach churned nauseatingly. This wasn't supposed to happen to her! This wasn't supposed to happen! She wasn't licentious, lascivious, lustful! She was moral! This wasn't supposed to happen!

She felt herself sinking into something supple.

_The bed!_

Her lips parted; wrenched to a gape to scream before he silenced her with a vicious kiss. He pushed his weight roughly onto her, bracing her to the bed and ceasing her struggles. His lips slid down to her neck, sucking roughly at her skin, blonde locks caressing her cheek. Unshed tears nipped at the corners of her exotic eyes; but no, she would not indulge him in the satisfaction of dominating her. An incisive hand slithering up her abdomen shocked her back into the current….situation.

She tried to reason with him.

"Malik, please," she whimpered helplessly. "Get a hold—"

He ground her hips with his own.

She widened her eyes, gawping.

She wriggled beneath him, trying miserably to ignore the wet tongue tracing her neck, leaving damp streaks twining along her skin. Every touch, every kiss; her body would tingle feverishly with each of his burning caresses.

He slipped down to the exposed chest of her low-cut nightgown, slurping wildly at her skin. The hand that had been lying patiently under her dress suddenly came to life. He ripped off her nightdress, casting it carelessly to the side.

She grasped the sheets below her.

Her throat constricted; she couldn't scream. Sehjaah glanced up. Malik towered over her, smirking knowingly.

"Isn't payback fun?" he hissed, lowering himself onto her.

She whinged peevishly in difference.

He nibbled at her earlobe, leisurely fingering the straps of her brassiere, elongating her agony. He slowly slid the lashes down her shoulders; reveling in her anguished squirms. Suddenly, he wrenched her toward him by it's bridge.

Malik once again did away with the garment before grinning wolfishly. Ignoring her unveiling, she tried to shoulder him. He snatched her wrists and pinned them above her head with a hand, smiling deviously. Furiously indignant, Sehjaah once again raised her leg before having it pushed aside and pinned to the bed. He shoved her other leg to the side; nuzzling her chest. It suddenly dawned on her the incredibly erogenous position she was forced in; she was locked to the bed with no means of escape; sprawled out wide beneath him. Horrified, she stared incredulously at him.

"You wouldn't…." she breathed, unable to supply the sentence with her dreaded thoughts.

"Oh, but I would," he whispered lowly in her ear, laughing cruelly.

He stooped to the vale amidst her bosom; kissing zestfully.

Sehjaah glanced up once more. She'd have to pull this off quickly; she couldn't take this anymore.

She shut her eyes in passion.

"_Oh_, Malik…."she whined petulantly.

He smirked at the thought of pleasuring her; seizing her surrender.

He moved down to further…. twisting the thin cloth of her final undergarment delicately between his fingers; occasionally brushing her inner thigh; relishing the lengthening of her yearning desire.

She moaned in toxic rapture.

"Please," she panted. "Malik…"

His triumphant leer widened in his coup d' etat.

She gasped and pulled back. Thinking she was going to buck her hips in erotic thrill, he smirked. Sehjaah rammed her back into the headboard; causing the bureau behind them to teeter forward. A large golden paperweight slid off the top shelf and smashed into the back of Malik's head.

With a low groan, he collapsed onto a relieved Sehjaah; unconscious.

Sehjaah smirked.

"So I'm that boring in bed, huh?"


	14. The Golden Paperweight

Malik greeted the marvelously blossoming new day with a hail of curses.

He released an agonized moan from the depths of his throat. His head throbbed glaringly.

_W.T.F..._

He snapped awake, the intricate workings of his mind swiftly flickering to life. Tilting his head up, off the pillow, he glanced around him.

Spotless.

Organized.

Everything in its place.

As it always had been. Not a speck of dust hovering around the incorrect article.

As it always had been. Right.

But this time, _right_ was _wrong_.

Grumbling in infuriating perplexity, he tore his sheets to the side and stood up. He surveyed the room, concentration narrowing his eyes.

Malik snarled.

It wasn't supposed to be this _normal_; so _run of the mill_. Had he dreamt it? He peered over his shoulder at the disheveled bed. No; it had been real; MUCH too real. He treaded back to the bed.

He drew the silken sheets from the gargantuan fourposter, straightening them in the air before permitting them to flutter back to the downy mattress. He turned to leave when his heel slammed into something painfully rigid as a boulder. A colorful list of obscenities escaped his lips as he hissed angrily in pain. Stooping down to snatch the item, he grasped it firmly in his fist.

He raised his arm ominously over his head. Just as he was about to hurl it into (no, not at, INTO, this is Malik we're talking about) the wall he hesitated. Lowering his arm, he stared at the object, widening his eyes.

_My gold paperweight…_

His mind began to tick dangerously; processing thoughts in mere instants.Malik ran a hand down the back of his skull, encountering a swollen bulge.

His piercing lavender eyes tapered promisingly.

It all made sense……_now..._


	15. The Blurred Truth

Sehjaah tugged at her sleeve restlessly; eager to wiggle out of Isis's grasp. Don't misunderstand; Priestess Isis was a fine, grand young lady.

But she liked to speech...a little too much for Sehjaah's taste. Whenever she did, it was always in her signature cryptic, undecipherable conundrums. If Sehjaah had been paying attention, she would have noticed the corners of Isis's midnight blue eyes glimmering faintly with forcibly suppressed emotions…

But Sehjaah, as always, it seemed these days, had something else whirring through her mind. Namely, the blonde-haired, lavender-eyed terror referred to as Malik.

She abhorred herself; fidgeting like a coward; like prey. Why should she have to endure the tormenting ignominy of partaking in an act so wicked? She felt filthy, soiled; a miserable wreck. And he hadn't even been able to demonstrate his full potential; courtesy of gravity.

Sehjaah twirled a roan curl; absentmindedly nodding to something Isis was despondently grousing about.

_He's going to kill me He's going to kill meeee! I got lucky last time, but…_

"So where's Mana?" Sehjaah blurted out spontaneously; desperately trying to woo Isis into believing she had actually been listening

"Funny you should ask…" a throaty, enthralling growl crept into her ears.

Sehjaah jerked upwards and gasped, before quickly clapping a hand over her mouth. Isis stared at her strangely an glanced up at him.

"Why? Have you any idea where she is?"

Malik stepped out from behind Sehjaah and wheeled himself afore them.

"Actually, yes. My men spotted hoof prints upon the dunes at dawn. We'll see how well she fares in the desert any day now," he informed her, smirking.

Isis glared at him, revolted.

"You're disgusting."

His pearly fangs glittered within a cruel smirk.

"I'd say it's a fate well deserved," he purred.

Sehjaah spun on her heel, angrily.

"Her blood's just as meaningful as yours, mind you! If not more so!"

She crossed her arms across her chest in resolution.

Malik only snickered mockingly, his laughter echoing hauntingly throughout the halls.

"You prove women can't handle reality!"

Sehjaah shot him an impossibly aloof look.

"Really?" she drawled alluringly. "Well you definitely show us the difference between men and boys…Real men aren't imbeciles!"

His eyes blazed with murderous wrath.

"I did show you what 'real men' can do last night…" he hissed.

Isis glanced at Sehjaah incredulously.

Sehjaah gawked in appalled shock. How was he so infuriatingly brash?

Isis cleared her throat, snapping their attention back to her.

"Missing or not; we must carry on with the festivities. We're housing several regal dignitaries and can't afford to lose their faith now. If they sense are weakness, they can attack as well…."

"The Festival of Opet and the Feast of Thoth?"

Isis nodded.

"It must be made ready on the night of the new moon; the eve of the celebration."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No, no, no; leave it where it hung before."

Priest Shadah sighed resignedly and lifted a palm to his temple. The ballroom looked dashing, of course, but who's to say that tonight's carousing wouldn't be the last thing they see? Mahad hadn't seemed to be faring as well as they had hoped. His tablet sanctuary had been emitting flickering flashes of light about two candle marks after midnight. Both the Pharaoh and Isis had appeared equally distressed over something they weren't to keen on sharing.

His olive eyes flared indignantly.

_It's not like the Six Sacred Guardians can do anything when even the Pharaoh's heart is turned away from his advisors! _

"Hmmm," someone droned loudly behind him. Shadah glanced over his shoulder. Rochelle tapped a finger against her lips. "Chandeliers are a nice touch." He irritably grumbled a thank you.

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Rough day?" she asked softly.

He managed a feeble smile.

"Rough year."

Suddenly, something struck him.

"Rochelle, would you be so kind…..?"

"Of course, what is it?" she inquired tactfully.

Shadah smiled graciously in return.

"Fetch me Priest Seto."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sehjaah lumbered lazily through the halls. For the past few hours, she had been dashing like mad, zipping through the corridors; running off the exhaustingly tremendous tasks in preparing a celebration. Turning a corner in an intersection of four hallways, she screeched to halt, nearly colliding into someone.

"Graceful…._very _graceful," someone remarked dryly.

Sehjaah glanced up.

"You look as if you have been laboring at a farm all day, as well. The very makings of a woman," they sneered mockingly.

"You have no knack for witticism, Priest Seto," Sehjaah snapped.

He smirked, triumphant. He had won their daily barter of insults.

She undid her hair, combing it and tying it up into a curly ponytail.

"Shouldn't a _nerd _like you be _working_?" she drawled good-naturedly.

"Unlike the sloth you are, I've finished my work. I simply desired to speak to Akunadin."

Sehjaah grimaced at the mention of the unsightly man.

"What's the matter?" Seto crooned in feigned concern. "Doesn't the one-eye ripped out look appeal to you?"

She smirked.

"About as much as you do."

He scowled.

"Anyways," she sighed, "I need to talk to Isis. See you around."

Sehjaah waved him off and proceeded to trudge away.

Suddenly, there was a deafening splitting sound; and Sehjaah knew well what t was, ears well attuned to the shred of cloth by now. She glanced at her shoulder horrified. In an attempt to reach for her arm, Seto;s gold bracelets had snagged onto the start of her sleeves, near her back, leaving a cavernous gash sprawling down her arm in it's wake.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rochelle bounded down the halls, searching for said Priest. Abruptly, something made its way into the extent of her hearing. She immediately silenced her footfalls, glancing tentatively around the corner. And what she saw made her gasp.

Screw Shadah. She had to tell _him_.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door burst open. Malik glanced up carelessly from his text: Torture made Easy (for YOU that is..).

Rochelle slinked into his bedroom, making her way dutifully toward him; a complete contrast of her dramatic entrance.

"I hold something of your interest," she declared.

Setting down his scroll, he leaned back in his chair and lifted his legs onto the desk, crossing his arms behind his head.

Malik smirked.

"It being what, love?"

She turned around, smiling at him coyly from over her shoulder. She perched upon the desk, crossing her legs over each other; deliberately raising the slit in the side of her dress.

"It being a certain someone…" she purred, reveling in his attention.

"Seto finally gt his period?"

She laughed primly.

"Oh, I suppose he _has_; but that's not why I'm here."

Malik grinned roguishly.

"Bed's always here."

Again she laughed.

"No, no, no! It has to do with…."

Malik's ears perked in interest.

"Sehjaah," she whispered poisonously.

His comely features contorted into an infuriated snarl.

"What do you know about her?" he hissed demandingly.

Rochelle smirked. She was milking Sehjaah's fateful, little flounder for all it was worth. She cleared her throat.

"It seems as though she's been hiding something…"

Malik arced a brow. Was this going where he thought it was...?

"A little…_rendezvous_,"

Malik tapered his eyes ominously. He wrenched his mouth open for a shout of his bloodcurdling fury.

Rochelle glanced at him.

"With someone I'm sure _you'll _be shocked to hear…"

Malik stopped himself. She didn't know….No one knew…yet…

"What are you getting at?" he growled lowly.

"Put two and two together," Rochelle nearly bit at him. He was taken aback. She had never-- "Sehjaah's been making passionate love with Seto!"


	16. Festival of Opet Feast of Thoth

He strode absentmindedly into the courtyard, mulling his thoughts.

"I take it you're gender confused and aren't telling me?"

Malik, surprised, whirled around; but kept his expression locked emotionlessly.

Sehjaah sat, legs crossed demurely, upon the edge of a fountain. She glowered at him.

"You were eyeing Set today…"

He glared dangerously at her.

"Just the girl I was hoping to see."

Sehjaah arced an eyebrow.

"Really? And why is that?"

Malik revelled in his silence.

Sehjaah stood up, glancing at him indifferently, hoping to impose her formidability.

Nothing flickered across the vast hollow of his stony expression

"I'll pick up where we left off. You're currently obliged, _indebted_," he informed her.

She tensed noticeably.

He smirked, continuing.

"But since Rochelle has appeased my…_needs_…today, I have something else in store for you."

She stood silent, glaring fiercely at him.

"Annex the Millennium Scepter and hand it furtively to me," he ordered. "And your life will be spared."

Sehjaah snorted in ridicule.

"And, of course, my body will remain untouched?"

He chuckled darkly.

"I'm afraid that's something I can't guarantee."

Sehjaah laughed jeeringly at him.

"I wouldn't have conceded anyways. Bribery won't win _me _over. I'm not _Rochelle_."

His snarky leer widened.

"She's proven that behind closed doors."

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes.

"But "bribery won't work", you say? Well, maybe a threat will bring you to your senses," Malik growled. "Steal it for me, unless you dare condemn dear _Set _to the torture chambers."

She drew a taut breath. He was clever; exquisitely clever. He knew how to push people's buttons. Manipulation came as easily to him by infancy as breath.

"What do you want with it?" she hissed sharply.

"That's none of your concern. All you need to worry your pretty little empty head about is pilfering it," he replied bluntly.

She frowned in silent protest.

Malik muttered in warning, "You have until the end of the dance. Bring me the Millennium Scepter, or other…more _drastic _measures will be enacted"

He said nothing of Set.

"And if I don't?" She rebelled insolently, ignoring entirely the ominous threat suspended from his voice.

He turned his head to the side, glaring at her from an angle.

"Ironic, that one so highly esteemed as a "scholar" could be so foolish….It'd be in your best interest to wizen up"

"Well you--!" Sehjaah was cut off by Malik.

He had turned to face her now, piercing eyes constricted to slits, blazing a dangerous purple. His lips were bowed into a beastly snarl, and his brow furrowed with contempt. When he spoke, his voice was cold as stone; severely refined with an anger so bitterly virulent it needed no physical exhibition for enforcement.

"You'll defy me at your own peril…"

With that, he spun around and stalked out of the courtyard and down the halls, leaving Sehjaah's heart beating thunderously behind the trickling fountain.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Candlelight seared brilliantly through the iridescent lanterns, silhouettes dancing upon the corridor walls with each gust. No once could say the Opet Festival was _simple_.

Sehjaah smiled at the lanterns, pleased. Everything was just about set now--

………………………

……………………..

…..Set…..

……………………

"Steal it for me, unless you dare condemn dear Set to the torture chambers."

………………………..

…SET!…..

She shook the thoughts wildly from her head, curls whipping around her. What could Malik possibly do? Set was strong, not a hulk of muscle but certainly no beanpole. Tall, lean, and swift, he was still quite the formidability.

Now that I think about it, their pretty evenly matched….

Set would crush him.

She knew he would.

She _needed _him to.

Sehjaah lightly toed a pebble off the path. What was she to do at the festival? Besides eat, of course. She certainly wasn't dancing...She'd mingle. She looked forward to gracing the prescence of the "imperial dignitaries" Set had ment--

_SET!_

Sehjaah released a sharp cry of anguish.

Why did the tip of her heart freeze with chilling dread at the mention of that name?

_SET!_

Her heart pounded.

"_**SEHJAAH**_!"

The girl jerked up, glancing around.

"Please, do not inform me _now_ of some malady you are suffering from," Priestess Isis reprimanded sharply.

"Uh-- none at all..."

"Fine. Anyways, be on your best behaviour tonight. Premature though you seem, you were requested to welcome the nobles with the rest of the Guardians."

Sehjaah nodded briskly and followed Isis down the corridor.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had never felt so utterly bored and electrified.

_Set was near her...near Shada and Isis...what, 10 yards? He was still fine. Fine. He would be fine..._

_FINE._

Such drama.

And this yakking idiot watered it all down

Of course, she couldn't voice her thoughts, so she stayed silent, smiled, and nodded; as Isis had instructed.

"I do believe he will proove to be an exceptional heir, having demonstrated the bountiless extent of his morals, and in such--"

Sehjaah nodded.

"quite the suave, savvy, charmer you might say!" He chuckled.

Sehjaah nodded.

_What fabulous witticism you have..._

_All the better to EAT YOU WITH, my dear! HAHAHAHA--_

Sehjaah twitched. Where had that come from? The babeling noble didn't notice. Suddenly, she caught something in the tail of her eye.

HIM.

Satan himself hadn't been this ruthless.

Rochelle was perched snugly atop Malik's lap, laughing softly, arms wrapped about his neck lest she might _fall_.

Sehjaah snarled.

_I hope she does fall and crack her head on the tiles! **Demons** take her!_

Malik laughed as his arms snaked tightly around Rochelle's waist, making her gasp and giggle coyly.

Sehjaah narrowed her eyes. Was it coincidential they were situated directly across from her?

She whirled around abruptly, ponytail slapping the startled noble's cheek, stalking away from them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How many more to go?" Sehjaah grumbled at Isis.

Isis glanced around, grimacing.

"It's not a single number..."

"JOY!" Sehjaah hissed.

Set smirked.

_"Feh. No wonder your scores came in second to mine."_

_Drat._

She had been hoping he would ignore her as she had ignored him.

Sehjaah smiled meekly at him.

"Yeah..."

Set quirked an eyebrow. She knew the silent rules. She was supposed to snap. And he'd retort. He glanced at Isis, who seemed terribly distressed.

He nodded comprehendingly.

_Woman problems._

He sighed, turning to Sehjaah.

"Shall we dance?"

Now _Sehjaah _quirked an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked lamely.

"I'm sorry, I forgot your lack of culture," he sneered.

She tapered her eyes, outraged.

"I was just _horrified_ YOU asked me!" she hissed. "I save my dances for _men_!"

He smiled smugly.

"Then let me show you how men dance."

Sculpting itself into the atmosphere, a new piece began to pervade the ballroom; an enchanting melody, alluringly enigmatic in it's beauty. Raw, vivacious notes lingere shrilly in the air. Rich, royal hues of the regal ornaments clashed veheently together.

He offered a hand, which she accepted touchily.

Sehjaah placed her other hand on his shoulder, he rested his on the small of her back.

And they began.

Sashaying across the room, they circled eachother. Twirling her away from him, he then smoothly drew her back, spinning her back to his chest.

She was feverent with passion; heart thundering, breath curt, sight blurred.

It was there in shimmering slivers; etched within his cerulean eyes, deep blue as the sea in autumn. He felt for her; he truly did. But she couldn't allow him to cross so closely, to her, to her heart...

_to Malik._

She was endangering him; the cruelty of it. The one man suited perfectly for her; that actually loved her as well; and she was forbidden. She turned her cheek shamefully to the side, gaze averted to the ground.

She had to tell him.

It wouldn't be fair.

She cut herself off with a sharp gasp.

Suddenly she was whisked swiftly through the air, dipped enticingly backwards.

To her sheer horror, she found herself eyeing Malik.

Rochelle's lips curled up, cheeks sweling with triumph.

He sat stock-still.

And though his jaw remained rigidly set in apathy, his piercing eyes betrayed a roaring tempest brewing tumultuously within.


	17. While You Can

Allright, ALLRIGHT I KNOW you seriously want to hunt me down and have me tarred an feathered for leaving you hanging for so long. And I apologize; that's certainly not my style. I don't know why, I don't know HOW, but I completley lost the blueprints for this; drafts everything, all sorts of documents were wiped off my little disky thing. Well, hallalujeah, I've found them and so the story picks up...

* * *

She did what any red-blooded, reasonable young lady would have done. 

She ran the hell away.

Of course, with her years of societal know-how, she managed to usher in a sudden diversion before scarpering out of the throng.

Leaving him scouring the dance floor.

It had made her blood run cold; however. Those entrancing lavendar eyes, boring through her. She felt, she _heard;_ herself choking before she shoved Set aside.

He would kill them both.

Someone pinched her elbow, jerking her back.

Sehjaah released a vexed squeal, squirming in their grip.

"Quiet!!" Isis hissed. "I need to speak with you!!"

Sehjjah's heart dropped, wisps of fret fluttering within her.

"Of course…"

Had she seen? Did she know? Did he tell her?

That night he bared his monstrous character…

The priestess steered her to the gilded doors of the ballroom, gently pushing at the bronzed handles and slipping out. Abruptly, she jerked around, robes sweeping up behind her.

Upon beholding the woman Sehjaah nearly screamed. This was not Isis; the Isis she knew; the mysterious, enticing woman whose lips rose and fell with conundrums, whose limpid eyes revealed sight of worlds beyond the night and day.

Her once clear, cerulean eyes were reddened; glassy with tethered tears. Raven tresses sprung out from beneath her ruffled veil, messily draping across her shoulders. Her cheeks were swollen, painted in a salmon tinge quite like the lips of ocean shells.

Yet the most striking verity about the woman was that her prized possession; that which she guarded more closely than her life, the Sennen Necklace, was wrenched roughly to the side of her neck, carelessly laying about her shoulder, her dark curls entwined round it.

Sehjaah couldn't help but to stutter her name.

"I-Isis?!? Pr-riestess?!?"

"He's gone," Isis whispered, hardly recognizing the bewilderment etched onto Sehjaah's face.

Sehjaah felt her limbs numb.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"The Pharaoh's missing!!" Isis burbled, palms flailing excitedly.

* * *

"The Pharaoh's missing," someone announced placidly. 

Set's gaze flicked to the side.

The man leaned against a column, devoured by the shadows. His throaty, chilling growl bristled with a foreboding sense of eminence; of power hardly leashed.

He chuckled lowly,

"Frankly, any rout of this country is fathomable; the heads of the empire waltzing while their people lay terrorized."

The priest remained silent.

Malik strode out from the shadowed corner, lips bowed into a smirk.

"Shouldn't you be preaching about how every deity of the heavens and earth will stop at nothing to protect him?" he sneered. "Or how his _"sacred"_ power will prevail over any obstacle?"

Set snarled, tapering his eyes.

"Listen, swine! _He _may have pardoned you for your **acrid deeds**, out of his majesty's exalted magnanimity, but be assured; _I_ won't think twice about having you--"

But Malik had already sauntered toward the flagons, fetching two glasses. He glanced back at Set carelessly.

"Care for a drink?

_

* * *

What ails her? Is she out of her mind? She speaks insanity!! I best lead her to her chambers… _

Sehjaah nodded empathetically.

"I agree, now let's go search for him in your room…"

Isis drew back, staring blankly at her.

"Yes, allri--in my--What?!? No, Sehjaah, listen to me-"

She's been entirely irrational the past week but this-- Week? Mahad!! She's distressed because of his-- Well, servants have said that they were-- And she can see the future-- And he left for Bakura last--

OH.

She's so depressed by his loss; she's delusional!!

Sehjaah looked pityingly at Isis.

"Oh, poor thing!! It's--"

Suddenly, a loud crack erupted from the abandoned halls. Abruptly, Sehjaah felt a sharp stinging within her cheek as her head barreled to the side.

Her world was spinning. She grasped her cheek, gaping in surprise.

Isis stared at her fiercely, shoulders trembling.

"I despise resorting to such measures, but you would not listen!! And do not mock me!!! I am not intoxicated, nor irrational, and do not make decisions illusorily!! I speak with the utmost solemnity!!"

Sehjaah's gaze remained fixed on the tiles, but Isis could read through it.

"It is not impossible!!" she hissed in frustration. "A naïve, young heir who has only just risen to throne?! Whilst his kingdom is in near pieces?? How much of an easier target could you pick?!?! You think other kingdoms **_see _**the danger in Bakura? You think they can **_see_**? He's just a common petty thief to them!! And If the Pharaoh cannot fare well against even that--"

She shook Sehjaah, nearly shrieking.

"Why won't you believe me!?! He's gone!! They've kidnapped him and soon they'll come to take the empire!! What do you think their thinking of, the neighboring kingdoms, helping us stop Bakura??? Friend or foe, when it comes down to it, they all want power!! They wouldn't think twice about slitting his throat!!"

Sehjaah roughly shrugged Isis's hands off her.

What sort of sentinels would leave him unguarded?

However, she could not defy the priestess.

"So it is hopeless?"

Isis shook her head.

"No, you will seek help from the Kingdom of Mitanni!!"

Sehjaah frowned.

"Didn't you just say they were all ruthless? These kingdoms?"

"Not from the monarchy!!" Isis snapped. "From a certain house of nobility, cousins of our Pharaoh."

"Have you considered Mitanni's stance as sworn enemies of Babylon!" Sehjaah queried sternly. "Monarchy, or no monarchy, sending me, a Babylonian, through the gates of Mitanni…"

Sehjaah shook her head, laughing bitterly.

"You will NOT go alone," Isis informed her. "Karim, Rochelle, and Malik will accompany you. They all speak fluently several different languages and can be spared without arousing the suspicion of nearby sovereigns. You'll stop to rest midway, where I've arranged for a close friend of ours to house you in Bubastis."

But Sehjaah had stopped listening.

"And you should be fine if you're wary of your mouth; don't let your cover slip."

He would murder her for sure, after that display tonight, or worse…. .Besides, if he _didn't_, anyone in Mitanni _would._

And if she saw any more of his…_courtesy_….toward Rochelle, she would scream…

At least Set is in the clear. Hopefully, he won't try to follow us…

But now I'M the one screwed…

What the hell am I gonna do? Rochelle, Karim-- there all on his side; and I have to spend, what 4 weeks minimum trying to save my skin? And that's if we're ahead of schedule.

Damn it….

* * *

The man stumbeled down the deserted corridor. He hiccuped, glancing bewilderdly around him. Sudenly, he tied one ankle clumsly over the next, staggering to the right. Set slammed into the wall, groaning softly. 

The priest drew himself erect before he could slip to the floor. He lifted a palm to his temple.

Fuck, this is so messed up...

Perchance, Malik had poured the wine a little to close to the brim?

Suddenly he blinked; had he heard a faint _'clink'_?

He scanned the hall around him. There, glinting upon the tiles, rested the Millennium Scepter.

_Oh..._

He mumbeled to himself as he stooped down to snatch it off the ground. He stood once more, staring at the Sennen item enclosed within his fist.

_Did I drop it??_

"Enjoy it while you can," someone snarled in his ear.

Bleary blue eyes blinked.

Suddenly, something smashed into the back of his skull. He dropped to the tiles; everything plunging into an inky black.


	18. The Tavern

Took me ages!! Kay, kay I'll leave!! Yeesh- enjoy...

BTW!! Next chapter's intense, and it takes place on the same night as this--I wanted to join them, but I hadn't enough time. And you wouldn't rather wait _longer_ would you?

Thought so.

smirk

* * *

Rochelle studied the skyline. They had plodded for ages through the rippling sands, yet the heavens were only just tinted pink with dawn's grace. 

Hmmm, the clouds; so soft; like the cheek of a baby!

She smiled, pleased with herself.

Quite the poet, am I not? The stout clouds, round--no-- Flushed with the innocent blush of a

A loud snort snapped her attention. She lurched in her saddle, startled. A bay horse cantered up to the side of her mare.

"Keep aware; we're going to join the caravan soon!" Karim informed her, slowing his ride down to a lazy stroll.

Rochelle tucked a stray strand of shimmering blonde hair behind her ear. She nodded slowly, gaze fixed forward.

"Shouldn't you tell _her_?" she asked somewhat bitterly, jutting her chin out toward the lone mount before them.

Karim brushed a strand of hair fro his eyes, squinting.

"Why the hell is she that far ahead?" he traces of irritability rising in his voice..

"She has A.D.D.," Rochelle offered snarkily.

Karim's face contorted in revulsion.

"GOD! You women and your body problems!!" he exclaimed sharply, turning on Rochelle.

She burst into twittering laughter.

"_A.D.D _not _P.M.S_.!!!" Rochelle snapped.

Karim mumbled incoherently, drowned by her spell of mirth. He dug his heels into his horse, spurring it onward through a startling jolt of speed.

Rochelle stopped; threads of her laughter harshly plucked apart.

"Wait! WAIT!!! I'm coming!!!"

Isis had shepherded them out of the palace in the silent midst of quite an ungodly hour of the night; shoving them out the gates with few words of prudence. They were to converge with a band of merchants from Damascus and slip through the desert unnoticed. A Sacred Guardian, an regal sorceress, a wealthy sage, and the High Commander of the Imperial army, she argued, would attract much too much attention. Once in Bubastis, they were to stay with specific confederates of the Pharaonic Court for but a night;

And what a _fated night_ it would be…

(you other readers can ignore this)

Dear Durba:

COUGHCOUGHCOUGH

* * *

The landlord released a choked sigh, brush jotting across a piece of parchment. 

That sums up the utilities, and then there's the worker's salaries…

Etched stiffly onto his brow were deep dark, creases; his withered flesh mirroring the epochs of tedious drudgery that were doctrined to keep bread on the table. Crowning his head was a large, bare patch of skin, sunken in amongst his ashy tresses; another mark of age's handiwork. He hoisted his elbows onto the desk, burying his face in his hands. His fingers tread over the ridges of creased skin, wearily kneading his brow…

Suddenly, a briery _chink_ tore through the foyer; ensued by muffled shuffling.

The landlord's eyes flew open.

Someone was rattling with the chains on the entry gate. Now, they had slipped through and were coming up the stone terrace ….

Anyone breaking in, and _breaking in _at _night _had to signify to morsel of foul intention…

"But, _Malik_, "Isis said to go to the Minister's!" a peevish voice insisted, dripping with effeminacy.

Then in a hushed whisper:

"She said he was our _ally_!"

A couple? It sounded as though there were more than two….

Someone snorted in reproachful disapproval.

"To _hell _with what that dunce says!!" a man muttered quietly in a throaty, honey-rich voice.

There was tinkling laughter, springing lightly off the stone pathway.

They're coming…

A man strut haughtily into the foyer, swirling cape billowing at his feet with flamboyance. He was unlike any the landlord had seen in years; years of boarding travelers that had come from the farthest fringes of the desert and beyond. No. Nothing like this. The man had an air about him; a rippling presence. It; the _aura_; was an impending formidability no man was designed to encompass. As though a cloud had sunken upon the room, all was dark, save for him. Bathed in the golden haze of an ethereal glow; his might jutted out jarringly, masking his intentions. He reverberated with boundless strength; the blazing strength of Ra Himself. Burning so brightly, pounding so loudly; it was nearly tangible, like the dank caress of a summer night. It was though it was alive, as a beast, writhing ferally within him.

…Power barely leashed…

"Two rooms," he ordered, passing a small, jingling sack across the counter.

The landlord proffered a trembling hand toward the sack, scooping it off the counter.

He hadn't even to count, the sack was heavy enough for a week's stay. The landlord regarded the sack warily; he knew enough of uncannily wealthy travelers that slipped into motels in the dark of the night, slithering out quietly just before the break of dawn…

Anything but good news.

"Isn't it enough?" a woman asked, trailing feebly off. Behind her stood the rest of their pack.

The Landlord glanced up, astonished.

When did they all come in? She must be a foreigner-- her skin's white as milk… And I do believe-- there is another woman with them, behind her --

The man cleared his throat audibly, snatching the Landlord's attention.

"I take it you're unsatisfied?" he inquired, a gleam of malevolence faintly, but firmly, hinted.

"I- No-- no, it's seamless--perfect. Ah, shall I acquaint you with your rooms?" the landlord managed awkwardly.

But the man had already turned around, back toward the Landlord. Nettled, he shot an irritable glance over his shoulder.

"You can just tell us where they are," the man responded gruffly.

The Landlord drew himself erect from the desk.

"And your steeds, sir?"

She with fair skin slipped a covert glimpse at the man before intruding.

"We'll be heading down to the town; we'll take them down with us."

She smiled faintly, hoping to weave a note of idealism.

The Landlord nodded grimly but said nothing.

There was something clashingly different about theses people; so incredibly bizarre was there situation.

He'd have to do something about that.

* * *

Malik set his mug down thuddingly on the counter, slitting his eyes. Hunched over his drink, he glowered at a dark smear on the counter before him. 

He had to act _quickly_.

Karim drained the last of his mead before hiccupping loudly and turning to gawp at his accomplice.

"Shouldn't we ought to re_-hic _return to the hotel?" he slurred. "The-y could be in troub-ble!!"

Malik regarded him with bland indifference.

"No, Rochelle left for her room ages ago…"

"What about _hic _Sarah?" Karim burbled curiously.

"_Sehjaah_,_" _Malik hissed between clenched teeth.

Karim looked thoughtful.

"What the h_-hic-_ell is wrong with her anyways? I asked her where you were and she frickin _jumped_!"

Malik tensed suddenly, lips coiling delicately into a smirk of sheer iniquity.  
"Has the thought of our two-way rooms ever graced you?"

Karim narrowed his eyes.

"No…." he mumbled in drunken stupor. "But even so, she's--"

Malik unveiled his teeth in a sinful grin.  
"No? Well what do _you _suppose takes place between a man and a feeble girl in the middle of the night? _Hmm_?"

The faintest of frowns were crumpling across Karim's temper. He inhaled sharply.

"Do I look like the sort of person to offer her board games!?!" Malik demanded disgustedly.

Karim stared at him incredulously.  
"You're f-ing kidding…"

Malik raised his eyebrows, passing him the most devious of smirks.

"I would have swung for-- She's much too much of an "independent" woman; whatever the hell that is!!! Fuck, she's such a goody-two shoes!"

Malik laughed in disdain.

"It's easy to leap over those barriers; you just need the talent. She's no challenge-- if you know _how_."

Karim rested; brooding silently in shock. Malik returned to his drink, simmering in the tinkling tintamar of the tavern.

"Sehjaah-- did you say?" someone cried behind him.

Bemused, Malik turned around. He set his mug down and narrowed his eyes at the man.

His eyes were absolutely striking; an enchanting, bright alloy of a yellow-green tinge, as a freshly spliced lime. Within that, was a scabrous, spiked orange ring surrounding the pupil; as flickering flames.

"Sehjaah; of the Pharaoh's court?" the man asked again, jeweled eyes widening.

Malik knit his brow in rapid calculation. Try as he might, he could not flout the nagging intuition that this man seemed _glaringly _familiar.

Malik quirked an eyebrow crossly.  
"Yes," he drawled, "what's it to you?"

The man narrowed his eyes to slits; bearing serpentine resemblance.  
"Sehjaah," he snarled viciously, "is my sister."

Karim, in his drunken state, laughed.

The next thing Malik knew, a set of knuckles had collided roughly into his jaw; sending his skull rocketing upwards, blond hair jouncing behind him. A harsh kick to his stomach sent him flying off the stool.

Malik crashed thunderously onto a table a while behind him, sending plates and glasses shattering to the ground. Red wine bled onto the floor. The customers of that specific table, two ladies of the night, jumped from their chairs, shrieking in horror. Shouts erupted from the crude, lowly crowd of onlookers; some cheering their approval, others calling for the bartender.

The man leapt lithely on top of him; fist poised, searing through the air. Beneath their dual weight, the table cracked sonorously. Shards of splintered wood pierced Malik's back, soaring into the man's bare arms. Malik caught the blow prematurely with one hand. He returned it with one of his own, clouting the man squarely in the eye. The man shook the pain off and cuffed Malik on the side of his head. They wrestled like wolves; fangs bared; lips curled into snarls; jaws snapping madly as they clawed at each other's throats.

Hooking his foot around the leg of a chair, the man hurled it at Malik. Malik crouched felinely; the chair smashing into the wall behind him. The man pitched another chair. Malik jumped onto the table and lunged at the man; delivering a flying kick. The man jerked his elbow into the side of Malik's knee; thrusting his leg to the side. Landing squarely on his feet, Malik twisted and lashed out at the man's neck. The man choked in surprise, head snapping back. Malik shot his hand forward. The man bent backwards, Malik's strike barely grazing his brow. He snatched Malik's arm and threw him over his head.

Catching himself, Malik swung his feet swiftly behind the man's knees, bringing him down to the ground. Leaping nimbly to his feet, Malik unsheathed his gilded blade and plunged it down toward the man's chest. Just as quickly, the man had drawn his own sword and lashed it out before his chest; hindering Malik's assault. They pressed their blades adamantly against one another; each exhibiting their power through ferocity; challenging, daring the other. Suddenly, the man pulled back his sword for a mere instant before kicking Malik's weapon away from him and flipping over his head, onto his feet. The man swiped at Malik's ankles. Malik jumped up and swiftly struck at the man's face; carving a deep gash into his cheek and across his chin.

The man yelped in pain and raised his palm to the side of his face. Red blood; red as wine, leached revoltingly through his fingers; rivulets dribbling down his arm; tarnishing his silver adornments. Malik exploited said distraction to his advantage. He swung again at the man, but the man was too quick, whacking the blade away with his own. They parried deftly around the tavern, chaotic clientele dashing out of their disparaging path. Silver blades clashed together with shrilly ringing metallic concussions; each as lethally near death as the next.

Driving him back, Malik cornered him against the main counter, raising his sword for the final blow. The man sneered critically before hacking away at the net suspended from the ceiling; cradling barrels filled with oil to light the lanterns.

The net tore apart, causing the casks to rain down onto them. The man cleverly seized the opportunity to severely puncture one of the barrels; oil exploding out from the cask and drowning Malik in inky grease.

Snarling, Malik swabbed his eyes clear just in time to see a flurry of blazing light storming toward him. Malik dove for the floor, lightly somersaulting out of the way of the oncoming candles.

Landing in a trickling pool of grease, the oil burst ablaze, flames licking at the decrepit wooden furniture.

They paid it no heed.

_That bitch!! He lit matches!!  
_  
Another batch of candles whizzed past Malik; who ducked to the side and pounced onto the man; thrusting his blade into his neck.

Sword yet in hand, the man wheeled backwards; adroitly handspringing back and into the clear.

…_Footsteps pounding behind him… _

Something clutched Malik's ankles; slamming into his body. His sword clattered to the ground, Malik following suit. He crashed onto the floor, jaw smashing into the cold, hard stone. A dense mass bore into his back; someone pinned his wrists to the floor.

Having been forced still, the harsh, enraged barks of the bartender slowly crept into Malik's hearing. He was demanding the restraining of "the jackasses". He surveyed the premises. The tavern was drenched in a tumultuous tempest of utter havoc; piercing shrieks tearing across the gamut of the room. Scorching fires blazed around the pub; fueled by the oil and candles dealt by his opponent. A large portion of the mob had raced stole away from the scene as soon as the first floorboard had been alight. Those who had stayed were darting around the bar, arms flailing hectically, each trying to restore order. Tables were smashed, chairs overturned, the crumbling furniture and the walls burning. Absolute chaos.

His kind of place.

Suddenly his wounds began stinging vehemently as something quickly penetrated his clothing; its icy caress nipping his tawny skin.

A fetid stench quickly wafted its way to his nostrils.

_…Smoke!!_

His head swiveled back as he struggled under the grip of the three men attempting to contain him. They held an empty tin bucket, stamping on the ends of his sizzling cape. He had been burning; coarse, singed splotches marring his arms and neck.

Growling, he wrenched his cape out from under the filthy feet of the peasants trying to help him. The wretched miseries dare handle him?

He shook his head savagely, damp hair scattering puddles of water. He lifted his gaze, searching for the attacker.

….And there she was….

She was squatting next to him, calmly tending to his wounds and asking how he went about his day; not a vestige of shock; sorrow; hate; traceable within her exotic features. Sehjaah was not one for hysterics.

Malik roared barbarously and kicked away his hindrances. Reeling backwards with the impact, they stumbled upon one another for support.

He stood, glaring at her; fangs bared in vicious spite. She wasn't supposed to be this irritably serene.

And do you know what she did? What she DID?!?!?!

"Oh!" she gasped, eyes widening.

She ran—not walked, RAN to their aid and helped them stand upright. One crass enough possessed the audacity to grin wolfishly at her; to which she was completely indifferent. Then she turned around and walked carelessly past Malik to her brother; without one glance; one glare…

Yearning vengeance, Malik turned to his side demandingly.

But no one was there….no one ever was….


	19. The Tavern Pt 2

"Here's the deal: I've been noticing a countless people reading this work, yet only a few tactfully comment. Now, my writing is not a product of a meek desire to feel appreciated; I look forward to reviews as an honest critique of my penmanship. Some poeple have at least been messaging me and that's fine; I want to know how I'm doing; YOUR thoughts on the story. So if you read, please take the time to tell me what you think I'm doing right or wrong, because this seriously isn't getting me anywhere; it takes like less than a minute."

Simsim1705

* * *

They were devoured by the eager crowd, hungering for the story. Sehjaah kept a covert hold on her brother's arm, edging back ever so slightly. To the discontented populace, she dodged intrusive probing with feeble "I don't knows" "Maybe's". Somewhere toward the end of the bar she could hear _him_ shouting, thrashing in indignation. The tumult of his vicious outcries drowned the chorus of tenacious patrons.

….at least in _her_ ears.

"Is he injured!?!?!" rose a loud query from the crowd.

What an inane question!

"Uh-huh," Sehjaah mumbled distractedly

Suddenly, a strange knot dug into her back. Sehjaah grabbed the doorknob, and wrenching it upon, flew out of the tavern, Ninazu at her heels.

_He was lashing at the bartender with vindictive fury; a rage that could force Troy to its knees._

They turned the corner of a deserted back street, panting for breath. Lanterns swayed faintly in the gust, dusky glow scarcely creeping any further into the shadows than Sehjaah herself would.

But she must.

She rose and began walking uncertainly forward.

"WAIT!!"

Ninazu rushed after her, grasping her shoulder and forcing her to halt. He snaked around her and stood before her. He gripped her firmly by the shoulders, eyeing her dangerously.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered. "He couldn't have--"

Ninazu clapped slickly into silence, waiting.

Sehjaah tore her gaze from the scraps of filth lining the gutters, staring him in the eye.

"Nothing happened."

His blood froze.

"Sehjaah," he began again, an edge of venom just perceptible in his voice. "Drop the front. I'm going to ask you again. What did he do to you?"

"He did _nothing_, all right!!?!" she bit at him, throwing his arms off her.

He grabbed her right arm.

"HE DID SOMETHING!!!" Ninazu bellowed, twice as fiercely. "NOW TELL ME!!!"

She felt her heart leap with sudden fear, fear that she had never known around her brother. At long last, the weight she had been trying to suppress within her heat burst; two fat tears rolled down her cheek.

And she knew the pain had naught to do with her arm.

Ninazu fell silent, softly releasing her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured quietly. "Please tell me-- don't be ashamed--"

"I-I'm not ashamed!!" Sehjaah sobbed. "Why should I be ashamed for what he-- he-- _he_ did it!!

Ninazu cradled her, whispering gently.

"Yes, he did… he did… And what was it he did?"

"He-- tried-- I can't!! I can't!!" Sehjaah's courage thawed once more. She cried harder. How could she possibly tell? If her Father knew--

"But Sehjaah, you must. I'm your brother I--"

"What good can possibly come of it?" she wailed. "You'll just--"

"Just let it out in one breath-- it'll be easier," he explained.

Sehjaah's head abruptly snapped up.

"How would you know? HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!? Have you any idea what it feels like-- to be so _dirty_, so _violated_-- I want to run from myself!!!"

Ninazu listened solemnly. She cried endlessly at his chest.

"Sehjaah," he began finally. "We have to tell-"

She wrenched away from him, shrieking.

"YOU'RE NOT TELLING THEM ANYTHING!!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, indifferent to anyone remotely near. "YOU'RE NOT!! YOU'RE NOT!!"

"You--"

"And what will you tell Father?" Sehjaah laughed bitterly between sobs, an awkward, hiccupping notion. "He's raised a whore?!?!?"

Ninazu extended his arm to her.

"You need to come back with me to Babylon. I'll have to cut the trip a few days short, but--"

"I'M NOT GOING!!" She screeched. "ARE YOU SO _DAFT_?!?! HE'LL KILL ME-- I SWEAR HE WILL!!!"

Ninazu was stern now.

"He DEFILED you and--"

"And now Father will disown me won't he!? I'm a disgrace now, aren't I?!? For something my hands are clean of!!!" She laughed harshly again. "And what justice is this? Well, he can go ahead and renounce my birth!!! It's nothing pleasant anyways!!"

"It's not the family name I give a fuck about!!" he yelled. "IT'S YOU!!"

"Well you don't have too!! He never even '_defiled_' me anyways!!" she countered heartlessly.

Ninazu drew back in surprise.

"Wha-a-?"

She shook her head violently, dark curls whipping around her.

"Oh, SCREW IT!! We were in his room, he tried to rape me, and I knocked him unconscious!!

"_YOU_ prompted this?!?" Ninazu accused sharply, knolls of fury swelling within his voice.

"NO, you fool!!" she snapped. "He dragged me into his room when I was off to meet Mana!! AND SHE'S A GIRL!!!"

"If he was able to drag you into his room, how could you possibly have knocked him unconscious!?!" Ninazu demanded accusingly.

His mistrust stung her tartly.

She sighed in defeat.

"There was a bureau I bumped into purposely, at the top of which sat a heavy metal miniature, and when I knocked it over it fell on his head."

Ninazu's stared at her tryingly, eyes misted, desperately trying to process what he had heard.

"I won't have your suspicion!!" she declared. "I don't care if you believe me, I'm going back!!"

"Sehjaah--"

"I DON'T CARE!!" she shrieked, clasping her hands over her ears childishly.

"SEHJAAH!!!" Ninazu roared, tearing her hands from her ears. "YOU PUERILE GIRL!! I'VE MERLEY BEEN TRYING TO PROTECT YOU FROM HIM, AND YOU SPITE **_ME_** WITH UNGRATITUDE!?!?!"

"WELL BELIEVE IT OR NOT YOUR INCESSANT NAGGING CAN GET ANNOYING SOMETIMES!!"

She lashed the words at him like they weren't knives.

His eyes widened; he slackened his grip…

"I've- you've- I willingly, WILLNGLY leapt and fought for you--"

He stared into her chillingly emotionless eyes; unfeeling and cold as stone.

She didn't care. He had never seen this side of his sister; so heartless--

"He--he raped you Sehjaah!! Raped you!! And you could care less?!? Ninazu stumbled.

"He did **_NOT _**rape me!!" She shrieked, unable to contain herself. "I will not fall to explications, so do not ask, but he--," she paused awkwardly, unsure how to phrase the….incident.

"I retain as much innocence as I did when I left from Babylon."

She narrowed her eyes forebodingly.

"And if you are true to your motives, my _word _should be enough," she declared.

Ninazu relinquished the last sliver of his evanescing sobriety.

"So it is MY MOTIVES that are charged?!? SEHJAAH, WAKE UP!! THE LECHER BEFOULED YOU AND SCUTTELED OFF!!! CAN YOU FATHOM THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION!?!?!?"

"Yes, I--"

"NO YOU CAN'T!!! YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE IT? THAT THE PASSING YEARS WILL GRADUALY ERADICATE THE SLIGHTEST SNIPPET OF EVIDENCE THAT HE EVER ONCE HAD YOU IN HIS BED!?! **IT WON'T AND IT NEVER WILL!!!**"

He realized he was rasping in shallow breaths. His eyes flicked up to his sister. Sehjaah was shuddering, clutching her arm.

He hadn't known; he couldn't have-- injured her that badly….

"They'll talk you know," he panted. "When you pass, in the towns, 'Isn't that the Anshar girl? She tricked her father into sending her to Egypt with the impression she was to study, but she ran off with a lover!! Shared a bed with him the first night!' Oh, Sehjaah they'll talk wild!!"

"So it's about the family name is it?" Sehjaah hissed spitefully. "The name?"

"NOT THE _NAME _FOOL!! FATHER WILL DISOWN YOU!! YOU'LL BE ON THE STREETS, SEHJAAH!!!!"

"No one will have to know," she muttered, more to herself than her bloodthirsty brother.

"THAT BASTARD!!! **Anu, **damn him!! I swear to God I'll slit the throat of that son of a _bitch_, I swear…" Ninazu plotted murderously.

(-- Babylonian Father of Gods)

"And no one will know,"

Sehjaah turned quickly and dashed out of the alley and leapt back into the raucous fervor of the avenue.

Ninazu blinked in surprise.

"SEHJAAH!! WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS--"

Her feet pounded on the street.

"SEHJAAH!!! **_SEHJAAH!!!_** HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!!!"

She laughed sourly.

My own life wouldn't tempt me from saving yours; it's you he wants to kill fool--

And me he wants to screw.

She slit her eyes.

Like one of these common whores!!!

(---They're in Bubastis; a city known for bacchanalia and prostitution)

She shoved her way through the loitering crowd on the street, forcing her way home-- to that ugly lodging, anyways.

* * *

Sehjaah roamed quietly through the shadowed halls, hunting for her room. She lingered for awhile, glancing around, before scowling and pushing on, room nowhere in sight.

_I shouldn't have stayed out late…I can't SEE in these halls!!! As if my vision wasn't bad enough…And I wouldn't have had to if it wasn't for that boar!! Anubis, take him!!_

A soft moan crept through the corridor, echoing lightly off the stone tiles.

Sehjaah instantly stiffened; tendrils of fright flittering down her spine. She pressed herself against the wall and held her breath.

Some rustling. Another low moan.

She squinted; perplexed.

Was someone in pain?

She quickly dismissed the proposal; they would have been screeching, not, whatever that was.

Something was askew.

She cautiously peered around the corner

Silhouetted against the lustrous moon they stood; at the end of the hall, locked in an embrace so close it was as if they were one.

His hand was slipped beneath her blouse, his groping anything but gentle. She trembled, but yielded no objection; burying her head in his chest to muffle her cries. His shimmering thistles of golden hair trickeled into hers; they were one and the same.

Sehjaah couldn't recall what happened first; mind a vivid blur of emotion. Her pulse thundered within her chest, louder than the clamor of the drums of war. Her knuckles whitened as she dug her nails into the wall, limbs tensing, or limping, or both.

Her blood churned with the ferocity of chained beasts, a storm at sea, throbbing inside her. The turbulence within her would not be dampened down upon, it surged through her brilliantly, ripping her apart. What was this; this with which her heart burned feverishly? She knew not, and she despised him for making her feel so.

He was not worth this pain. That man's caress, his affection meant nothing to her. She wouldn't have given him a second glance if she hadn't been forced to sleep in his study; or had it all started when they confronted each other on the staircase?

She didn't want it—she couldn't take it anymore.  
Her stomach felt nauseated. She turned and sprinted down the hall, cloaked in quiescence. She did not care about finding her room; not now, nor ever. She cared not about returning to the palace, she would never return. And she certainly did not –

She shut her eyes to hold in the tears.

_Never! No! I will not cry for—such a— a _

She could come up with no name, and she could care less. She tore through the halls, stumbling here and there but never making a sound.

She burst out of the front doors, loosing her footing and lurching over the doorstep. She sprawled out onto the stone walkway, gravel cutting into her skin. She didn't bother to brush it off, forcing herself off the ground and dashing through the gates. A wave of lights passed her but she paid it no heed, footfalls pounding on the ground.

She finally slowed to a halt, chest heaving. She gasped for breath, shuddering; she hadn't realized how cold it was.

With laborious effort, she raised her head, finding herself before the very same tavern he had nearly slaughtered her brother—

She released an anguished cry—would every path lead to him?!?

She sniveled. She wanted nothing more than to cast herself in the alley alongside the tavern, hug her knees and burst into a fit of sobs.

Her dreams of finally braving the world alone, free from her fathers' throttling clutches, an adventure; shattered.

Her closest and dearest companion; her brother! Gone.

Her precious stallion, her Sultan, would probably land in the grubby hands of that she-witch.

She had never solved the cryptex!!

And now she was stranded!!

She couldn't cry if she wanted to; wouldn't let herself. Till yet lanterns flickered about the city; drunkards drank and dancers danced. She would not slip into a shrieking tantrum, like a child, and sacrifice her dignity all for him, though her audience was of few nobility.

She lifted herself from the ground and strode toward the yawning mouth of the alley, leaning against the wall.

She eyed the dark crevice warily.

_Best keep my wits about me…_

She sighed as she slumped against the wall, shutting her eyes.

_Three cheers for abstinence…_

Something pried uncomfortably at her neck.

Her eyes snapped open

"Dozing are we?" someone hissed. "You'll find it much easier to try and stay alive around me with your eyes open…"


	20. The Tavern Pt 3

SIGHS WHOAHMG took so long --\\\\

Enjoy.

XD Thanks for the reviews/and/or/ messages.

* * *

A muffled moan crept up from deep beneath the creased niches of the encumbering quilt. 

A faint stillness; a faint stillness clung desperately in the air, till yet another squirm tunneled into the mattress. The sheets chattered loudly in response; blindingly conspicuous for an encounter so illicitly invested in.

He aroused sluggishly, stubbornly impervious to the listless twist and turns wrought about him. He stalled for a minute, briefly securing his orients; before the indulging sensualities of latter hours swarmed him.

There was a stirring in the damp sheets next to him.

She was awake.

He let out a low groan, burrowing deeper into his pillow.

_"…Malik…?_" Rochelle inquired, her voice thickly clotted with slumber.

He didn't answer; feigning sleep and hoping she'd fall for it. He shut his eyes, gripping the edge of his pillow. What had he done? He didn't have _time _for this… And he was in no mood to acknowledge her…. So he wouldn't.

She stripped off the soiled sheets raveled between her legs. Taking care to swathe her upper body in the rutted folds of the sheets, she turned to face him.

_"…Malik…?_" she murmured once more through drags of drowsiness.

Malik crushed his eyes shut in frustration. He clenched the pillowslip with a ferocity quite novel to the present…ah… _situation_… of sorts.

Rochelle studied him fondly, hands streaming through his lustrous tresses. Contemplating him throughout the fervor of the night, she sighed. She was not used to such a cold shoulder from him; so foreign to the Malik she so well knew; and-- ….well… _did _she love him? It obviously wasn't as if she merely _fancied _him; she would pleasurably drop to her knees and do whatever bidding he asked of her; anything to satisfy him. And how had she! That night! She drew a slender palm to her face to mask the deep flush blossoming across her cheek. She had bent and moaned, licked and groaned, performing every possible act of carnality just to get him to stay. For him, she had proposed a colorful potpourri of wanton erotica; thrilling, splendid delights, allowing him to probe through parts of her she hadn't even known existed. Exploring every inch of her body! For all the men she'd been with, he roused rippling sentiments within her, sensations _intoxicating_, sensations _exotic_, sensations to which she could do nothing but scream out her pleasure and pant for more. It was as if it were her first time to lay bare for a man…which it most certainly _wasn't_.

_Now that I think about it, _she mused, _he's been muted all night_.

She froze.

Had it come? Already? The disinterest? The apathy from men she had come to be so well acquainted with young into her adolescence? Had he gotten sick of her already?

She remembered her grandmother's warnings with grim embrace:

_"Those- they're all the same!! Those men!! You want those exciting men? You want them dangerous men? You want that spark of excitement they send that courses within you? Well, child, take it from me!! Those kinds of men, are quicker to sense that spark is gone! Those kinds of men, will drop a girl in half a second if she's not careful. Those men, when they're done; when their bored with playing with their dolls, will throw them away. And ain't no new one gonna pick her up and be different."_

She shuddered.

_If I can say one thing for him: he's a hard man to please, _she thought grimly.

_It's hardly been two months though! _

_No_, she firmly decided, lips pursed, he was just…troubled. She resumed petting him, her caresses a flirt and a flicker; flitting gestures so delicately painted it was as though she stroked _gold_.

Malik shifted tetchily beneath her touch; a low gnarl rupturing from the abysses within his throat. He shook his head savagely-- and she retreated with a gasp, wringing her hands as if burnt. He couldn't have this lascivious whore distracting him now-- couldn't _afford _it.

_It was that sound, _he thought darkly. While they were outside. Someone had been there; had been watching… He hadn't really spared it much thought whilst so engrossed with his engagements, but now that the mead's illusory effects had slipped away, his comprehension was shorn from any hindrance; back to it's conniving, calculating craft.

_Someone was there. They heard. They saw. _

He growled.

_They know that which doesn't concern them…. _

His lips curled in a deviously delighted smile.

_Heh… But such a dilemma can be solved easily, however… _

Some rise with the sun, some rise with the moon. Malik rose by first cursing the Gods. He stood from the bed, groping lazily about the dusky room for his clothes.

Rochelle watched him, startled.

"Where are you going?" she asked quickly. "You never leave…"

She faded away humiliatingly, making him sneer in scorning contempt. She kicked herself mentally for sounding so feeble.

"I need to go," he informed her curtly. Malik threw his dank shirt on, moist with sweat. He drew up his trousers, frowning all the while, irritably aware of her ever desperate gawk. Scowling at her transfixion, he strode carelessly past her to the door. It all translated as _weak _to him.

Pulling it slightly ajar, he slipped quietly out of the dark bedchamber.

He had to find the noise.

* * *

He spun her around, keeping the blade at her kneck. His eyes widened as he came to study hers. He broke into a savage grin.

"Ah, the Babylonian…." he observed in accented Egyptian. "What is your name?"

Sehjaah didn't answer. Couldn't answer.

_What the #$ing hell have I gotten myself into? _

Sehjaah stood silent, recalling Ninazu's parting words. In a flurry of childish spite, she had made the mad decision to run, flee from the only protection she had. And now she was screwed. Or was it so childish? Defending her dignity? He took off his headscarf and shook his head, revealing a shock of snarled white hair. Standing there; with silver moonlight raining down half his face, and ebony shadows shrouding the other; with gleaming exotic eyes bearing all seeming of a demon; with lips snaking into a wicked grin; he was one to rival Satan himself.

She stared at him. Where could she go? Where could she run to? He had a knife!!! Her heart hammered like thunder rolling through her.

His eyes flashed.

"Are you a mute!?!?" he snapped. "What is your name, girl!!?!?!"

"Get your filthy hands off me," she said so quietly, it was though she conversed with herself.

He glowered at her.

"And my name's Sehjaah, by the way." She cleared her throat, mastering herself.

"Now, release me, and leave this place, lest you bear witness firsthand to the consequences!"

He chuckled darkly now, thoroughly amused. Crossing his arms across his bare chest, he leaned back against the wall of the alley.

"And what might those be?" he asked casually.

She widened her turquoise eyes.

"Er…--" she stuttered uneasily. "My Guard stationed will--"

_They would…..???? _

Bakura pushed himself off the wall and straightened himself to his full, impressive height.

"You came here as a scholar, didn't you? So I assume you should be intelligent?"

She nodded vigorously.

He smirked maliciously as he took a step toward her.

"Tell me, girl, just about what do you honestly think will happen? "

Her rosy cheeks paled.

"Alone; deep within a dark alley…." He took another ominous step.

She backed further.

"In the middle of the night…."

She backed away as he pressed his advance.

"…With the company of a thief?" Grinning darkly, he stood before her, his towering figure smothering her in shadows.

She heard a low growl rupture the silence as someone's warm, pungent breath caressed her neck. Bewildered, she turned around to confront head on a monstrous serpent, forked tongue dancing between its teeth.

She screamed and ducked.

"I see you've met Diabound," the thief announced indifferently.

"Diabound?!?!?" she gasped.

_Could this be his "Ka" the pharaoh was talking about? A giant snake? Suits him well…. _

Emerging from the solid stone of the wall was an enormous monster, connected to the snake.

"The serpent is it's tail?!!?" she said, revolted.

He laughed sinisterly.

"Frightened? Well I'm sure your guard will show up any day now…"

Sehjaah slipped a hand into her robes, drawing out an exquisitely made blade, "Come any closer and you'll pay a hefty price!" she hissed triumphantly.

_Brother won't miss it anyways… Thank God I kept enough wit to steal it from him…….. _

His eyes alighted with amusement. He was _entertained_, toying with her. Sehjaah narrowed her eyes. "Sure you can handle that?" He asked in mock concern. Abruptly, he turned to glare at her. "In any case, you're wasting my time; something I haven't got much of."

"Fine then; a duel for your freedom?" she smiled wryly.

He snarled.

"Watch your tongue girl, you might not have it long."

Bakura drew his own, casting aside the sheath and wielded it skillfully in front of him.

"Do you think this wise, lass? Crossing blades with the King of Thieves?"

"Wiser than letting you escape!" she countered boldly, tightening her awkward grip on the hilt.

Suddenly, he turned and pointed the sword at her stomach. She shrieked and leapt back, waving her weapon gracelessly. Snarling, Sehjaah dashed to him and they began to parry; Bakura driving her further backwards with every swift swipe of his blade.

"You demonstrate at least basic skill; I'll give you that."

Sehjaah gritted her teeth. She hadn't fenced since her childhood, when she had been rather skilled.

Sehjaah was attempting fruitlessly to keep up with him, the agile fluidity of his dexterous movements quickly frustrating her. By the time she would swing her sword to block a strike to her waist, he would have already had his prepared to slice her limb. Raising his sword above his head, Bakura brought it down forcefully, Sehjaah hopped to the side, narrowly missing his strike; and falling right into his ploy. He leapt before her and, with instantaneous maneuvering, almost a practiced choreography, thrust his blade across her arm. Screeching, she clamped her eyes shut; anxiously awaiting the throbbing pain that would quickly course through her arm. After a few moments, she cautiously opened one eye and glanced down. The entire right sleeve of her gown had been shredded into countless rags; without leaving a single scratch to mar her skin as proof. Widening her eyes, her gaze snapped back up at him.

"That accomplished nothing!" she pronounced with as much assurance as she could muster to veil her trembling squeal.

Her tattered sleeve dropped to the ground lifelessly; leaving a frayed cuff at her shoulder.

"Tell that to your tailor." Bakura smirked. He swung forward again, causing her to bound back and desperately claw at the air before her.

Panting, she backed into something solid. Instinctively whirling around, she cursed herself silently upon finding that Bakura had shrewdly steered her oblivious self into a corner. Sehjaah felt something sharp prick her neck. Her heart pounded ecstatically in her chest and her legs numbed. Her head was swimming; each confused, jumbled thought shabbily overlapping the other.

_Oh…!#$ing crud… _

"Big mistake…" a dark voice taunted.

Petrified, she turned her head slowly; finding Bakura's renowned dagger, murderer of countless aristocrats and peasants alike, poised upon her neck.

Lowering his gaze to hers, Bakura narrowed his eyes.

"Death is a well warranted _consequence _for anyone fool enough to turn their back on me," he growled viciously.

* * *

O.O? Poor Sehjaah, I just keep making her wretched life more miserable, don't I? Spiraling into Despair?? BWAHAHAHAHAH!!!!

….

...I think I'm related to Malik…or something….


	21. The Tavern Pt 4

mY, mY! tWO cHAPTERS iN a sINGLE nIGHT!!

pROPS tO mE!!!!

(yES i kNOW tHE cAPS iS/aRE ON) (yOUR pICK)

* * *

Glowering, Bakura quickly made his way through the labyrinthine alleys of the town, dragging Sehjaah with him. He had an arm wrapped about her screaming form and was pressing her tightly against him as a means of controlling her. 

"Let go of me, you vile scoundrel!! **LET GO OF ME**!!!" Sehjaah screeched angrily, flailing her arms. She kicked him in the side. He snorted, slackening his grip before shoving her roughly into his hip.

She wheezed for breath, stumbling in her disoriented struggles.

"Enough!" he snarled, gripping her tighter.

She coughed, choking on her gasps.

"W-WHAT DO-N-N'T YOU UNDERSTAND-D?? LET-T. ME. GO-O-O. YOU. BASTARD!!!! **SON OF WHORES!!! NOW**--",

He dropped her harshly on the stone walkway. She cried out in pain, rolling onto her back.

"Silence!" he growled. "Hasn't anyone taught you ineptitude is annoying?"

"Who's? Yours?" she remarked snidely, laboring to lift herself up. As if she was ridiculously distant from any shard of danger, she directed her attention to her abused gown, brushing off the dirt.

Bakura carefully unsheathed his knife, taking care to trap a sliver of the faint moonlight on it's surface.

It caught her eye.

Glancing at him, Sehjaah backed up against the wall. He ran his tongue across the edge of the bade, grinning in heinous sin. She pressed herself further into the wall, his towering figure crushing her.

Suddenly, his arm lashed out from the depths of his sleeve and sharply grabbed her arm, forcing her balled fist open. He thrust his dagger into her left arm. Sehjaah screamed and turned her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut.

Abruptly, she noticed there was no pain.

She studied her unblemished arm, horrified, before glancing fearfully at Bakura, who was triumphantly dangling her left sleeve. She noticed too, that in the process he had torn part of the cloth covering her shoulder; leaving part of her back exposed. She pushed herself off the ground only to be thrown down once more by a knee to her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

She hawked a breath, chest shuddering erratically.

Suddenly, she felt something warm throttle her. She whipped her head wildly from side to side, trying to rip off whatever it was off. Shrieking obscenities, Sehjaah lashed out blindly, scrabbling at the air in a feeble attempt to wound Bakura. He had wrapped her sleeve around her mouth, gagging her. She clawed viciously at it, trying desperately to tear it off, but he had knotted it tightly, with no chance of escape. Bakura smirked at her muffled shrieks.

"Now isn't that an improvement…" he jeered, looming menacingly over her.

She flashed him one last glare, incomplete without her infamous snarl, before searching the ground around her for the slightest indication of a stone to throw at Bakura.

Lifting her up, he slung her over his shoulder, indifferent to her indignant protests. He locked her feet together in a tight clutch, barring her most serviceable weapon. Sehjaah, violently knocked her fists against his back, demanding her release.

Bakura cursed, irritated with her.

"Still haven't learned your place, girl?" he barked.

Growling, he shoved his shoulder into her injured abdomen. She yelped at the resurrection of pain, doling out one final, furious kick before succumbing with the bare minimum of surrender to his strength.

He smirked as he darted quickly through the streets

"Isn't life easier when you embrace defeat?"

She rested silently upon him; seething and terrified.

_Might as well conserve my energy for when a chance to escape makes itself known…. _

_…Bitch… _

* * *

"Goodnight, _princess_!!"

Grisly hands thrust her into a cell, much to the appeal of the circlet of spectators observing her. The raucous jeers and taunts of his comrades ricocheted off the stone walls, drowning out her objections. With a stifled scream, Sehjaah crashed onto the stone floor, heightening the mocking laughter of the thieves.

"Hah! Let the Pharaoh come see his nobles now!! Rolling in the dirt"

"We'll bring them off their high horse!!"

"All the aristocracy will fall! _Kull al' khara!!"_

"We ought'a ransom her to her family, 'den de Pharaoh's court!"

"How 'bout makin' sure she's still chaste?" one declared, grinning darkly.

Her hips immediately backlashed; a violent throe of pain rocketing through her body. She shut her eyes as a means of bearing the excruciating constriction of her abdomen. She groaned weakly, rolling onto her stomach. Rasping in the gag, Sehjaah struggled with her bonds. She glared up at them, eyes flashing a dangerous jade.

A chorus of overjoyed agreement rang out through the jail, each thief putting forth his own amendments to the operation.

Sehjaah kicked around furiously.

"Any chaste-checking you wish to do will be saved for the bars," a silkily-executed order announced, daring anyone to contradict.

They all turned to the voice, several cheek enough to grumble their complaint.

"What's that?" the voice demanded sharply, swiftly whipping the men into obedience.

Muttering their apologies, they reluctantly shuffled out the jail, and not a moment too soon.

Sehjaah blacked out.


End file.
